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L161— H41 

THE 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


From  the  Accession  of  James  il. 


THOMAS  BABINGTON  MACAULAY, 


IN    FIVE  VOLUMES. 


VOLUME  III. 


New  York: 
WM.  L.  ALLISON  COMPANY, 
Publishers. 


BY 


KM  K 
V'  3 

CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  III. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PAGfi. 

Wniiam  and  Mary  proclaimed  !ii  London..  •••••«••••••  • 

Rejoicings  throughout  England ;  Rejoicings  in  Holland*  •••  •  •   S 

Discontent  of  the  Clergy  and  of  the  Army.. ..•••••«••   3 

Reaction  of  Public  Feeling   4 

Temper  of  the  Tories  •  *  •   % 

Temper  of  the  Whigs  •••  •••  8 

Ministerial  Arrangements   *.   10 

William  his  own  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  *   11 

Danby.....  •  ta 

Halifax  •  *   13 

Nottingham  •  •  •  14 

Shrewsbury ;  The  Board  of  Admiral^  «  •  •  •  15 

The  Board  of  Treasury;  The  Great  Seal   16 

The  Judges  •   17 

The  Household  •   18 

Subordinate  Appointments  •••   ao 

The  Convention  turned  into  a  Parliament   si 

The  Members  of  the  two  Houses  required  to  take  the  Oaths   25 

Questions  relating  to  the  Revenue  •   26 

Abolition  of  the  Hearth  Money   28 

Repayment  of  the  Expenses  01  the  United  Provinces ;  Mutiny  at  Ipswich   99 

The  first  Mutiny  Bill   35 

Suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  <   37 

Unpopularity  of  William  •  •  38 

Popularity  of  Mary   41 

The  Court  Removed  from  Whitehall  to  Hampton  Court   43 

The  Court  at  Kensington  ,   45 

William's  foreign  Favorites   46 

General  Maladministration   49 

Dissensions  among  Men  in  Office...  •  •..«...   49 

Department  of  Foreign  Afiairs   54 

Religious  Disputes   55 

The  High  Church  Party   56 

The  Low  Church  Party  , .  57 

William's  Views  concerning  Ecclesiastical  Polity;  Burnet,  Bishop  of  Salisbury   59 

Nottingham's  Views  concerning  Ecclesiastical  Polity.   63 

The  Toleration  Bill  7.  ,   64 

The  Comprehension  Bill  «   70 

The  Bill  for  settling  the  Oaths  of  Allegiance  and  Supremacy  *   78 

The  Bill  for  setthng  the  Coronation  Oath   91 

The  Coronation  ,   93 

Promotions  ,  ,  95 

The  Coalition  against  France  \  The  Devastation  of  the  Palatinate   96 

War  declared  against  Francs   loe 

CHAPTER  XIL 

State  of  Ireland  at  the  Thne  of  the  Revolution ;  The  Cidl  Power  Ift  Ibe  hands  erfhs 

Roman  Catholics  •  •  •   loi 

The  Military  Power  hi  the  hands  o{  the  Roman  Catholics. •  >•  tm 


00NTEI9TS. 


Mutual  Enmity  between  the  Engtishry  and  the  Irishxy  »•<  , 

Panic  among  the  Englishry  «  •••••«••••••••  io§ 

History  of  the  town  of  Kemnare  *  •  ••   too 

Enniskillen  •  •  •  •  ••••  ••••••••••••••••••  no 

Londonderry  •  •••••••••  m 

-  Closing  of  the  Gates  of  Londonderry  •  «••••  113 

Mountjoy  sent  to  pacif^r  Ulster.  113 

William  opens  a  Negotiation  with  Tyrconnel  •  117 

The  Temples  consulted..  •  c*  •••«.•••.•••  ii3 

Richard  Hamilton  sent  to  Ireland  on  his  Parole   119 

Tyrconnel  sends  Mountjoy  and  Rice  to  France  |  Tyrconnel  calls  the  Iri^  People  to 

arms  •  131 

D  evastation  of  the  Country  •  •  123 

The  Protestants  in  the  South  unable  to  resist  •   126 

Enniskillen  and  Londonderry  hold  out;  Richard  Hamilton  marches  into  Ulster  with  an 

Army....^   127 

James  determines  to  go  to  Ireland.    12S 

Assistance  furnished  by  Lewis  to  James  129 

Choice  of  a  French  Ambassador  to  accompany  James ;  The  Count  «f  Avaux   131 

James  lands  at  Kinsale }  James  enters  Cork   133 

Journey  of  James  from  Cork  to  Dublin   135 

Discontent  m  England  •  •   237 

Factions  at  Dublm  Castle  *  138 

James  determines  to  go  to  Ulster  {  Journey  of  James  to  Ulster  •  *   143 

The  Fall  of  Londonderry  erpected   147 

Succors  arrive  from  England;  Treachery  of  Lundy;  The  Inhabitants  of  Lofadonderry 

resolve  to  defend  themselves  •   148 

Their  Character.  ••••  150 

Londonderry  besieged  •  ••   154 

The  Siege  turned  into  a  Blockade   156 

Naval  Skirmish  in  Bantry  Bav  157 

A  Parliament  summoned  by  James  nta  at  Dublin   15S 

A  Toleration  Act  passed  •   263 

Acts  passed  for  the  Confiscation  of  the  Property  ol  PraCettanti   163 

Issue  of  Base  Money  >.....  i63 

The  Great  Act  of  Attainder  ..»...•«••  169 

James  prorogues  his  Parliament  •..  17a 

Persecution  of  the  Protestants  in  Iceland. «^  «•   173 

Effect  produced  in  England  by  tla  News  imra  Ireland   175 

Actions  of  the  Enniskilleners  •  •   178 

Distress  of  Londonderry  •  »•  179 

Expedition  under  Kirke  arrives  in  Lough  Foyle}  Cruelty  of  Rosen   180 

The  Famine  in  Londonderry  extreme   183 

Attack  on  the  Boom....  •«   185 

The  Siege  of  Londonderry  raised  •  *   186 

Operations  against  the  Ennidtilleners   189 

Battle  of  Newton  Butler.    191 

Consternation  of  the  Ixi^.»..«  ..«••  .••••••..••».».••••«.<•••.•••  199 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Revolu^on  more  violent  {a  Scotland  than  in  England.   i9§ 

Election  for  the  Convention;  Rabbling  of  the  Episcopal  Clergy   194 

State  of  Edinburgh.   198 

The  Question  of  an  Union  between  England  and  Scotland  raised   199 

Wish  of  the  English  Low  Churchmen  to  preserve  Episcopacy  in  Scotland  203 

Opinions  of  William  about  Church  Government  in  Scotland   203 

Comparative  Strength  of  Religious  Parties  in  Scotland  ^.r. 205 

Letter  from  William  to  the  Scotch  Convention ;  William's  Instructions  to  hib  i^^gBnxs  In 

Scotland    206 

The  Dalrympleso    207 

Melville  209 

James's  Agents  in  Scotland ;  Dundee;  Balcarras  •  210 

Meeting  of  the  Convention    aia 

Hamilton  elected  President  214 

Committee  of  Elections ;  Edinburgh  Castle  summoned.... ....  *   ^  aij 

Dundee  threatened  by  the  Convenanters  e»«  ai6 

Letter  from  Jamea  to  the  Convention...  .••••••.••«••••••••••••••••   aif 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

fiffect  of  Jameses  Letter* •••••••••••  •  •••;f«« ••«•••••••••••  ••••••••  219 

Flight  of  Dundee  '  »  220 

Tumultuous  Sitting  of  the  Convention  •••  221 

A  Committee  appomted  to  frame  a  Plan  of  Government  •••  222 

Resolutions  proposed  by  the  Committee.^  •  •  •  224 

William  and  Mary  proclaimed ;  The  Claim  of  Right ;  Abolition  of  the  Episcopacy  225 

Torture   227 

William  and  Mary  accept  the  Crown  of  Scotland.. ••  229 

Discontent  of  the  Convenanters  ,   230 

Ministerial  Arrangements  in  Scotland ;  Hamilton;  Crawford   231 

The  Dalrymples ;  Lockhart;  Montgomery;  Melville....  •   232 

Carstairs;  The  Club  formed ;  Annandale;  Ross  •  233 

Hume;  Fletcher  of  Saltoun   234 

War  breaks  out  in  the  Highlands ;  State  of  the  Highlands   236 

Peculiar  nature  of  Jacobitism  in  the  Highlands. •  ■  •  246 

Jealousy  of  the  Ascendency  of  the  Campbells   247 

The  Stewarts  and  Macnaghtens;  The  Macleans  •  250 

The  Camerons;  Lochiel  •  251 

The  Macdonalds  •  253 

Feud  between  the  Macdonalds  and  Mackintoshes;  Inverness  254 

Inverness  threatened  by  Macdonald  of  Keppoch.  •  256 

Dundee  appears  in  Keppoch's  Camp  •   258 

Insurrection  of  the  Clans  hostile  to  the  Campbells  •  259 

Tarbet's  Advice  to  the  Government....  •   261 

Indecisive  Campaign  in  the  Highlands. •••   ••••  •  262 

Military  Character  of  the  Higmanders  •  ••••••  ••••••  263 

Quarrels  in  the  Highland  Army,  *   265 

Dundee  applies  to  James  for  assistance  ;  The  War  in  the  Highlands  suspended  269 

Scruples  of  the  Covenanters  about  taking  Arms  for  King  William  269 

The  Cameronian  Regiment  raised.  •  2  70 

Edinburgh  Castle  surrenders  •••••  ••  272 

Session  of  Parliament  at  Edinburgh;  Ascendency  of  the  Club  •  273 

Troubles  in  Athol  ..•  •  276 

The  war  breaks  out  again  in  the  Highlands   278 

Death  of  Dundee  •  285 

Retreat  of  Mackay  •  285 

Effect  of  the  battle  of  Killiecrankie ;  The  Scottish  Parliament  adjourned  287 

The  Highland  Army  reinforced   290 

Skirmish  at  Saint  Johnston's  •  •.   292 

Disorders  in  the  Highland  Army  •  292 

Mackay's  Advice  disregarded  by  the  Scotch  Ministers ;  The  Cameronians  stationed  at 

Dunkeld   •  293 

The  Highlanders  attack  the  Cameronians  and  are  repulsed  •  295 

Dissolution  of  the  Highland  Army  296 

Intrigues  of  the  Qub  {  State  of  the  Lowlands*   297 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Disputes  in  the  English  Parliament;  The  Attainder  of  Russell  reversed,  298 

Other  Attainders  re  versed ;  Case  of  Samuel  Johnson  300 

Case  of  Devonshire  f  Case  of  Oates  •  301 

Bill  of  Rights  •  309 

Disputes  about  a  Bill  of  Indemnity.  •  313 

Last  Days  of  Jeffreys  314 

The  Whigs  dissatisfied  Whh  the  King  ».......«••.•••  317 

Intemperance  of  Howe;  Attack  on  Caermarthen  319 

Attack  on  Halifax   320 

Preparations  for  a  Campaign  in  Ireland  323 

Schomberg  ,  •   324 

Recess  of  the  Parliament ;  State  of  Ireland  ;  Advice  of  Avaux  326 

Dismission  of  Melfort ;  Schomberg  lands  in  Ulster.  330 

Carrickfergus  taken ;  Schomberg  advances  into  Leinster  33 1 

The  English  and  Irish  Armies  encamp  near  each  other;  Schomberg  declines  a  Battle..  333 

Frauds  of  the  English  Commissariat   334 

Conspiracy  among  the  French  Troops  in  the  English  Service   335 

Pestilence  in  the  English  Army  ,  ,  335 

The  English  and  Irash  Armies  go  into  Winter  Quarters. •••  •  ••••  337 

Various  Opinions  about  Schomberg's  Conduct  33S 

Maritime  Alfairt****.***  •*  •••••••••••••«•••••••*••••••••  •••  #  33f 


vi  OONTElim 

Ma!adinm!stratiqn  of  TonlngtOB»«**  •  •••••••••••••••••••••••  ^ 

Continental  Affairs.  •  •••••••••••••••••••••••  341 

Skirmish  at  Walcourt ;  Imputations  thrown  on  Marlborough.  •  343 

Pope  Innocent  XI.  succeeded  by  Alexander  VIII.  ••••••  345 

The  High  Church  Clergy  divided  on  the  Subject  of  the  Oaths..   346 

Arguments  for  taking  the  Oaths  •   347 

Arguments  against  taking  the  Oaths  ••.••.•••.•••.«••••.•••.....•....  349 

A  great  Majority  of  the  Clergy  take  the  Oaths  v  <  35A 

The  Nonjurors  :  Ken  ****  •••••  356 

Leslie;  Sherlock  •  35S 

Hickes  •  •  •   359 

Collier   360 

Dodwell  •  •  •  361 

Kettlewell ;  Fitzwilliam ;  General  Character  of  the.Nonjuring  Clergy.   363 

The  Plan  of  Comprehension;  Tillotson....  •  •  367 

An  Ecclesiestical  Commission  issued  ••••  •  •  368 

Proceedings  of  the  Commission  369 

The  Convocation  of  the  Province  of  Canterbury  summoned;  Temper  of  the  Clergy....  373 

Th<$  Clergy  ill-affected  towards  the  King  •   3 74 

The  Clergy  exasperated  against  the  Dissenters  by  the  Proceedings  of  the  Scotch  Pres* 

tryterians  ••*  378 

Conntitution  of  the  Convocation  •  3 79 

Elestion  of  Members  of  Convocation. ..«..••...•  ••••••••••  379 

Kcdesiastical  Preferments  bestowed.  •  380 

Campton  discontented  •   381 

Th^  Convocation  meets.  .....v^.   38a 

Thi:  High  Churchmen  a  Majority  of  the  Lower  House  of  Convocation  383 

Diiierence  between  the  Two  Houses  of  Convocation  384 

Th«  Lower  House  of  Convocation  proved  unmanageable.  385 

Tb«  Convocation  prorogued* •••••••••  ••••••  386 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Parliament  meets :  Retirement  o£  Halifax.  3 83 

Supplies  voted  ;  the  Bill  of  Bights  passed.  •••••  389 

Inquiry  into  Naval  Abuses......  •  ••••••  391 

Inquiry  into  the  Conduct  of  the  Irish  War.. •  «••••..•.••••••••••.••   39a 

Reception  of  Walker  in  England  «  •  393 

Edmund  Ludlow  ••••••.•.••.••.•••»•  394 

Violence  of  the  Whigs.  397 

Impeachments  «  •  398 

Committee  of  Murder.... ..«•...••.••••••  39) 

Malevolence  of  John  Hampden  •  •  40a 

1690.   The  Corporation  Bill  403 

Debates  on  the  Indemnity  Bill.  ••••••  •  40/ 

Casecf  Sir  Robert  Sawyer  ••  *  408 

The  King  purposes  to  retire  to  Holland  «  412 

He  is  induced  to  change  his  intention ;  the  Whigs  oppose  his  going  to  Ireland ;  He 

prorogues  the  Parliament  •  •  ••••  ••••  ^  414 

Toy  of  the  Tories  415 

Dissolution  and  General  Election  416 

Changes  in  the  Executive  Departments.  •  41B 

Caermarthen  then  Chief  Minister  •  •  419 

Sir  John  Lowther  42c 

Rise  and  Progress  of  Parliamentary  Corruption  in  England  42 1 

Sir  John  Trevor  ••••  426 

Godolphin  retires  •  ••  427 

Changes  at  the  Admiralt]^  ,  •  • .  •  427 

Changes  in  the  Commissions  of  Lieutenancy  428 

Temper  of  the  Whigs ;  Dealings  of  some  Whigs  with  Saint  Germains ;  Shrewsbury, 

Ferguson  ••.  430 

Hopes  of  the  Jacobites  431 

Meeting  of  the  New  Parliament;  Settlement  of  the  Revenue  •  •  432 

Provision  for  the  Princess  of  Denmark  435 

Bill  declaring  the  Acts  of  the  Preceding  Parliament  valid....  •  44a 

Debate  on  the  Changes  in  the  Lieutenancy  of  London  443 

Abjuration  Bill  •  44s 

Act  of  Grace  *«  •  «  44# 


coiiTgiim  Yii 

Jttl^rllameiitororogtiecl;  PlimtivtioDt  for  the  First  War**   ••••••t**  449 

^Ikiinistration  01  James  at  Dubun  ••**••  •*•  •••*•••••••••••  450 

•Auxiliary  Force  sent  from  France  to  Ireland...  •••••••  452 

Jkn  of  the  English  Jacobites :  Clarendon,  Aylesbury,  Dartmooth.  •  454 

^enn  •••  #  455 

^reston  •  •••.*•.  ••  *.••••  ••••  456 

J%e  Jacobites  betrayed  by  Fuller. •.*•  •••••o  4^9 

'L,*rone  arrested  ••.••••••••*••••••••*•••••••••••••••••  *.•••••  45s 

Difficulties  of  William  *  ••••  •••*•  •  ••  ;  459 

'3onduct%f  Shrewsbury. •••••••••  *•••*•  *•*.••*  •  •  460 

*^e  Council  of  Nine. •.•.•••••••.•..•••••*. ••••••  462 

Conduct  of  Clarendon ;  Penn  held  to baiL.. .••...>  ••  463 

Interview  between  William  and  Burnet  (  William  sets  out  for  Ireland  464 

Trial  of  Crone  •  •  •••••  465 

Danger  of  Invasion  and  Insurrection;  Tourville*s  Fleet  in  the  Channel.        ••••••••  467 

Arrests  of  suspected  Persons.  *  468 

Torrington  ordered  to  give  Battle  tO  Tonrville* ••••  *••••  •  ••••••  469 

Battle  of  Beachy  Head..***  *  •**••**••**••*•**••••«•  479 

Alarm  m  Londont  Battle  of  Fleunis|  Spirit  of  the  Nation  ...*•**•*•••••  471 

CeMUiaU  Sbcewsbuty*  •  •••*•••*••••••••••«•«•«•*««••«•  ^ 


i  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XI.— (1689.) 

The  Revolution  had  been  accomplished.  The  decrees 
of  the  Convention  were  everywhere  received  with  sub- 
mission. London,  true  during  fifty  eventful  years  to  the 
cause  of  civil  freedom  and  of  the  reformed  religion,  was 
foremost  in  professing  loyalty  to  the  new  Sovereigns. 
Garter  King  at  Arms,  after  making  proclamation  under 
the  windows  of  Whitehall,  rode  in  state  along  the  Strand 
to  Temple  Bar.  He  was  followed  by  the  maces  of  the  two 
Houses,  by  the  two  Speakers,  Halifax  and  Powle,  and  by  a 
long  train  of  coaches  filled  with  noblemen  and  gentlemen. 
The  magistrates  of  the  City  threw  open  their  gates  and 
joined  the  procession.  Four  regiments  of  militia  lined  the 
way  up  Ludgate  Hill,  round  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral,  and 
along  Cheapside.  The  streets,  the  balconies,  and  the  very 
housetops  were  crowded  with  gazers.  All  the  steeples 
from  the  Abbey  to  the  Tower  sent  forth  a  joyous  din.  The 
proclamation  was  repeated  with  sound  of  trumpet,  in  front 
of  the  Royal  Exchange,  amidst  the  shouts  of  the  citizens. 
.  In  the  evening  every  window  from  Whitechapel  to  Pic- 
cadilly was  lighted  up.  The  state  rooms  of  the  palace 
were  thrown  open,  and  were  filled  by  a  gorgeous  com- 
pany of  courtiers  desirous  to  kiss  the  hands  of  the  King 
and  Queen.  The  Whigs  assembled  there,  flushed  with 
victory  and  prosperity.  There  were  among  them  some 
who  might  be  pardoned  if  a  vindictive  feeling  mingled  with 
their  joy.  The  most  deeply  injured  of  all  who  had  sur- 
vived the  evil  times  was  absent.  Lady  Russell,  while  her 
friends  were  crowding  the  galleries,  of  Whitehall,  remained 
in  her  retreat,  thinking  of  one  who,  if  he-  had  been  still 
living,  would  hgve  held  no  undistinguished  place  in  the 
ceremonies  of  that  great  day.  But  her  daughter  who  had* 
a  few  months  before  become  the  wife  of  Lord  Cavendish, 
was  presented  to  the  royal  pair  by  his  mother  the  Countess 
of  Devonshire.    A  letter  is  still  extant  in  which  the  young 


2 


HISTORY  OF  England: 


lady  described  with  great  vivacity  the  roar  of  the  populace, 
the  blaze  in  the  streets,  the  throng  in  the  presence  cham- 
ber, the  beauty  of  Mary,  and  the  expression  which  ennobled 
and  softened  the  harsh  features  of  William.  But  the  most 
interesting  passage  is  that  in  which  the  orphan  girl  avow- 
ed the  stern  delight  with  which  she  had  witnessed  the 
tardy  punishment  of  her  father's  murderer.* 

The  example  of  London  was  followed  by  the  provincial 
towns.  During  three  weeks  the  Gazettes  were  filled  with 
accounts  of  the  solemnities  by  which  the  public  joy  mani- 
fested itself,  cavalcades  of  gentlemen  and  yeomen,  proces- 
sions of  sheriffs  and  bailiffs  in  scarlet  gowns,  musters  of 
zealous  Protestants  with  orange  flags  and  ribbons,  salutes, 
bonfires,  illuminations,  music,  balls,  dinners,  gutters  run- 
ning with  ale,  and  conduits  spouting  claret. f 

Still  more  cordial  was  the  rejoicing  among  the  Dutch, 
when  they  learned  that  the  first  minister  of  their  Common- 
wealth had  been  raised  to  a  throne.  On  the  very  day  of 
his  accession  he  had  written  to  assure  the  States  General 
that  the  change  in  his  situation  had  made  no  chanjBfe  in 
the  affection  which  he  bore  to  his  native  land,  and  that  his 
new  dignity  would,  he  hoped,  enable  him  to  discharge  his 
old  duties  more  efficiently  than  ever.  That  oligarchical 
party,  which  had  always  been  hostile  to  the  doctrines  of 
Calvin  and  to  the  House  of  Orange,  muttered  faintly  that 
His  Majesty  ought  to  resign  the  Stadtholdership.  But  all 
such  mutterings  were  drowned  by  the  acclamations  of  a 
people  proud  of  the  genius  and  success  of  their  great  coun- 
tryman. A  day  of  thanksgiving  was  appointed.  In  all  the 
cities  of  the  Seven  Provinces  the  public  joy  manifested  it- 
self by  festivities  of  which  the  expense  was  chiefly  defrayed 
by  voluntary  gifts.  Every  class  assisted.  The  poorest 
laborer  could  help  to  set  up  an  arch  of  triumph,  or  to  bring 
sedge  to  a  bonfire.  Even  the  ruined  Huguenots  of  France 
could  contribute  the  aid  of  their  ingenuity.  One  art  which 
they  had  carried  with  them  into  banishment  was  the  art 
of  making  fireworks;  and  they  now,  in  honor  of  the  vic- 
torious champion  of  their  faith,  lighted  up  the  canals  of 
Amsterdam  with  showers  of  splendid  constellations. J 

♦  Letter  from  Lady  Cavendish  to  Sylvia.  Lady  Cavendish,  like  most  of  the  clever 
girls  of  that  generation,  had  Scudery's  romances  in  her  head.  She  is  Dorinda:  her  cor- 
respondent, supposed  to  be  her  cousin  Jane  Allington,  is  Sylvia:  William  is  Ormanzor, 
and  Mary  Phenixana.    London  Gazette,  Feb.  14,  1688-9;  Luttrell's  Diary. 

t  See  the  London  Gazettes  of  February  and  March  1688-9,        Luttrell's  Diary. 

t  Wagenaar,  Lxi.  He  quotes  the  proceedings  of  the  States  of  the  and  of  March, .^689. 
Loudon  Gazette,  April  11,  1689;  Monthly  Mercury  for  April,  1689. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


3 


To  superficial  observers  it  might  well  seem  that  William 
was,  at  this  time,  one  of  the  most  enviable  of  human  be- 
ings. He  was  in  truth  one  of  the  most  anxious  and  unhappy. 
He  well  knew  that  the  difficulties  of  his  task  were  only  be- 
ginning. Already  that  dawn  which  had  lately  been  so 
bright  was  overcast;  and  many  signs  portended  a  dark 
and  stormy  day. 

It  was  observed  that  two  important  classes  took  little  or 
no  part  in  the  festivities  by  which,  all  over  England,  the 
inauguration  of  the  new  government  was  celebrated.  Very 
seldom  could  either  a  priest  or  a  soldier  be  seen  in  the 
assemblages  which  gathered  round  the  market  crosses 
where  the  King  and  Queen  were  proclaimed.  The  profes- 
sional pride  both  of  the  clergy  and  of  the  army  had  been 
deeply  wounded.  The  doctrine  of  non-resistance  had  been 
dear  to  the  Anglican  divines.^  It  was  their  distinguishing 
badge.  It  was  their  favorite  theme.  If  we  are  to  judge  by 
that  portion  of  their  oratory  which  has  come  down  to  us, 
they  had  preached  about  the  duty  of  passive  obedience  at 
least  as  often  and  as  zealously  as  about  the  Trinity  or  the 
Atonement.*  Their  attachment  to  their  political  creed 
had  indeed  been  severely  tried,  and  had,  during  a  short 
time,  wavered.  But  with  the  tyranny  of  James  the  bitter 
feeling  which  that  tyranny  had  excited  among  them  had 
passed  away.  The  parson  of  a  parish  was  naturally  un- 
willing to  join  in  what  was  really  a  triumph  over  those 
principles  which,  during  twenty-eight  years,  his  flock  had 
heard  him  proclaim  on  every  anniversary  of  the  Martyr- 
dom and  on  every  anniversary  of  the  Restoration. 

The  soldiers,  too,  were  discontented.  They  hated  Pop- 
ery indeed;  and  they  had  not  loved  the  banished  King. 
But  they  keenly  felt  that,  in  the  short  campaign  which  had 
decided  the  fate  of  their  country,  theirs  had  been  an  in- 
glorious part.  A  regular  army  such  as  had  never  before 
marched  to  battle  under  the  royal  standard  of  England, 
had  retreated  precipitately  before  an  invader,  and  had  then, 
without  a  struggle,  submitted  to  him.  That  great  force 
had  been  absolutely  of  no  acccount  in  the  late  change,  had 
done  nothing  towards  keeping  William  out,  and  had  done 
nothing  towards  bringing  him  in.  The  clowns,  who,  armed 
with  pitchforks  and  mounted  on  carthorses,  had  straggled 

*  "  I  may  be  positive,"  says  a  writer  who  had  been  educated  at  Westminster  School, 
where  I  heard  one  sermon  of  repentance,  faith,  and  the  renewing'  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
I  heard  three  of  the  other;  and  'tis  hard  to  say  whether  Jesus  Christ  or  King  Charles 
the  First  were  oftener  mentioned  and  magnified."  —Biss«t'r  Modern  Fanatic,  1710. 


4 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


in  the  train  of  Lovelace  or  Delamere,  had  borne  a  greater 
part  in  the  Revolution  than  those  splendid  household 
troops,  whose  plumed  hats,  embroidered  coats,  and  curv- 
etting chargers  the  Londoners  had  so  often  seen  with  ad- 
miration in  Hyde  Park.  The  mortification  of  the  army 
was  increased  by  the  taunts  of  the  foreigners,  taunts  which 
neither  orders  nor  punishments  could  entirely  restrain.* 
At  several  places  the  anger  which  a  brave  and  high  spirited 
body  of  men  might,  in  such  circumstances,  be  expected'  to 
feel,  showed  itself  in  an  alarming  manner.  A  battalion 
which  lay  at  Cirencester  put  out  the  bonfires,  huzzaed  for 
King  James,  and  drank  confusion  to  his  daughter  and  his 
nephew.  The  garrison  of  Plymouth  disturbed  the  re- 
joicings of  the  County  of  Cornwall:  blows  were  exchang- 
ed; and  a  man  was  killed  in  the  fray.f 

The  ill  humor  of  the  clergy  and  of  the  army  could  not 
but  be  noticed  by  the  most  heedless;  for  the  clergy  and 
the  army  were  distinguished  from  other  classes  by  obvious 
peculiarities  of  garb.  Black  coats  and  red  coats,"  said  a 
vehement  Whig  in  the  House  of  Commons,  "are  the  curses 
of  the  nation. "J  But  the  discontent  was  not  confined  to 
the  black  coats  and  the  red  coats.  The  enthusiasm  with 
which  men  of  all  classes  had  welcomed  William  to  London 
at  Christmas  had  greatly  abated  before  the  close  of  Feb- 
ruary. The  new  King  had,  at  the  very  moment  at  which 
his  fame  and  fortune  reached  the  highest  point,  pj-edict- 
ed  the  coming  reaction.  That  reaction  might,  indeed, 
have  been  predicted  by  a  less  sagacious  observer  of  human 
affairs.  For  it  is  to  be  chiefly  ascribed  to  a  law  as  certain 
as  the  laws  which  regulate  the  succession  of  the  seasons 
and  the  course  of  the  trade  winds.  It  is  the  nature  of  man 
to  overrate  present  evil,  and  to  underrate  present  good;  to 
long  for  what  he  has  not,  and  to  be  dissatisfied  with  what 
he  has.  This  propensity,  as  it  appears  in  individuals,  has 
often  been  noticed  both  by  laughing  and  by  weeping  phi- 
losophers. It  was  a  favorite  theme  of  Horace  and  of  Pascal, 
of  Voltaire  and  of  Johnson.  To  its  influence  on  the  fate  of  > 
great  communities  may  be  ascribed  most  of  the  revolutions 
and  counter-revolutions  recorded  in  history.  A  hundred 
generations  have  passed  away  since  the  first  great  na- 

*  Paris  Gazette,- -"^^^       1689;  Orange  '"razette,  London,  Jan.  10,  1688-9. 
+  Grey's  Debates,  Howe's  Speech,  Feb.  26,  1688-9;  Boscawen's  Speech,  March  i;  Lut- 
trell's  Diary,  Feb.  23-27.  .  — 

t  Grey's  Debates,  Feb.  26,  1688-9. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


5 


tional  emancipation,  of  which  an  account  has  come  down 
to  us.  We  read  in  the  most  ancient  of  books  that  a  people 
bowed  to  the  dust  under  a  cruel  yoke,  scourged  to  toil  by 
hard  taskmasters,  not  supplied  with  straw,  yet  compelled 
to  furnish  the  daily  tale  of  bricks,  became  sick  of  life, 
and  raised  such  a  cry  of  misery  as  pierced  the  heavens. 
The  slaves  were  wonderfully  set  free:  at  the  moment  of 
their  liberation  they  raised  a  song  of  gratitude  and  tri- 
umph: but,  in  a  few  hours,  they  began  to  regret  their  slav- 
ery, and  to  reproach  the  leader  who  had  decoyed  them 
away  from  the  savory  fare  of  the  house  of  bondage  to  the 
dreary  waste  which  still  separated  them  from  the  land 
flowing  with  milk  and  honey.  Since  that  time  the  history 
of  every  great  deliverer  has  been  the  history  of  Moses  re- 
told. Down  to  the  present  hour  rejoicings  like  those  on 
the  shore  of  the  Red  Sea  have  ever  been  speedily  followed 
by  murmurings  like  those  at  the  Waters  of  Strife.*  The 
most  just  and  salutary  revolution  must  produce  much  suf- 
fering. The  most  just  and  salutary  revolution  cannot  pre- 
duce  all  the  good  that  had  been  expected  from  it  by  men 
of  uninstructed  minds  and  sanguine  tempers.  Even  the 
wisest  cannot,  while  it  is  still  recent,  weigh  quite  fairly  the 
evils  which  it  has  caused  against  the  evils  which  it  has  re- 
moved. For  the  evils  which  it  has  caused  are  felt;  and  the 
evils  which  it  has  removed  are  felt  no  longer. 

Thus  it  was  now  in  England.  The  public  was,  as  it  al- 
ways is  during  the  cold  fits  which  follow  its  hot  fits,  sul- 
len, hard  to  please,  dissatisfied  with  itself,  dissatisfied 
with  those  who  had  lately  been  its  favorites.  The  truce 
between  the  two  great  parties  was  at  an  end.  Sepa- 
rated by  the  memory  of  all  that  had  been  done  and 
suffered  during  a  conflict  of  half  a  century,  they  had  been, 
during  a  few  months,  united  by  a  common  danger.  But 
the  danger  was  over:  the  union  was  dissolved;  and  the  old 
animosity  broke  forth  again  in  all  its  strength. 

James  had,  during  the  last  year  of  his  reign,  been  even 
more  hated  by  the  Tories  than  by  the  Whigs;  and  not  with- 
out cause:  for  to  the  Whigs  he  was  only  an  enemy;  and  to  the 
Tories  he  had  been  a  faithless  and  thankless  friend.  But  the 
old  Eoyalist  feeling,  which  had  seemed  to  be  extinct  in  the 
time  of  his  lawlesss  domination,  had  been  partially  revived 

*  This  illustration  is  repeated  to  satiety  in  sermons  and  pamphlets  of  the  time  of  Wil- 
liam the  Third.  There  is  a  poor  imitation  of  Absalom  and  Ahitophel  entitled  the  Mur- 
raurers.  William  is  Moses;  Corah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram,  nonjuring  Bishops;  Bala&mj 
I  think,  Dryden;  and  Phinehas  Shrewsbury. 


6 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


by  his  misfortunes.  Many  lords  and  gentlemen  who  had,  in 
December,  taken  arms  for  the  Prince  of  Orange  and  a  Free 
Parliament,  muttered  two  months  later,  that  they  had  been 
drawn  in;  that  they  had  trusted  too  much  to  His  Highness  s 
Declaration;  that  they  had  given  him  credit  for  a  disin- 
terestedness which  it  now  appeared  was  not  in  his  nature. 
They  had  meant  to  put  on  King  James,  for  his  own  good, 
some  gentle  force,  to  punish  the  Jesuits  and  renegades  who 
had  misled  him,  to  obtain  from  him  some  guarantee  for 
the  safety  of  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  institutions  of  the 
realm,  but  not  to  uncrown  and  banish  him.  For  his  mal- 
administration, gross  as  it  had  been,  excuses  were  found. 
Was  it  strange  that,  driven  from  his  native  land,  while 
still  a  boy,  by  rebels  who  were  a  disgrace  to  the  Protest- 
ant name,  and  forced  to  pass  his  youth  in  countries  where 
the  Roman  Catholic  religion  was  established,  he  should 
have  been  captivated  by  that  most  attractive  of  all  super- 
stitions? Was  it  strange  that,  persecuted  and  calumniat- 
ed as  he  had  been  by  an  implacable  faction,  his  disposition 
should  have  become  sterner  and  more  severe  than  it  had 
once  been  thought,  and  that,  when  th.ose  who  had  tried  to 
blast  his  honor  and  to  rob  him  of  his  birthright  were  at 
length  in  his  power,  he  should  not  have  sufficiently  tem- 
pered justice  with  mercy?  As  to  the  worst  charge  which 
had  been  brought  against  him,  the  charge  of  trying  to 
cheat  his  daughters  out  of  their  inheritance  by  fathering  a 
supposititious  child,  on  what  grounds  did  it  rest?  Merely 
on  slight  circumstances,  such  as  might  well  be  imputed  to 
accident,  or  to  that  imprudence  which  was  but  too  much 
in  harmony  with  his  character.  Did  ever  the  most  stupid 
country  justice  put  a  boy  in  the  stocks  without  requiring 
stronger  evidence  than  that  on  which  the  English  people 
had  pronounced  their  King  guilty  of  the  basest  and  most 
odious  of  all  frauds?  Some  great  faults  he  had  doubtless 
committed:  nothing  could  be  more  just  or  constitutional 
than  that  for  those  faults  his  advisers  and  tools  should  be 
called  to  a  severe  reckoning;  nor  did  any  of  those  advisers 
and  tools  more  richly  deserve  punishment  than  the  Round- 
head sectaries  whose  adulation  had  encouraged  him  to  per- 
sist in  the  fatal  exercise  of  the  dispensing  power.  It  was  a 
fundamental  principle  of  law  that  the  King  could  do  no 
wrong,  and  that,  if  wrong  were  done  by  his  authority,  his 
counsellors  and  agents  were  responsible.  That  great  rule, 
essential  to  our  polity,  was  now  inverted.    The  sycophants, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


7 


vho  were  legally  punishable,  enjoyed  impunity:  the  King, 
who  was  not  legally  punishable,  was  punished  with  merci- 
less severity.  Was  it  possible  for  the  Cavaliers  of  Eng- 
land, the  sons  of  the  warriors  who  had  fought  under  Ru- 
pert, not  to  feel  bitter  sorrow  and  indignation  when  they 
reflected  on  the  fate  of  their  rightful  liege  lord,  the  heir  of 
a  long  line  of  princes,  lately  enthroned  in  splendor  at 
Whitehall,  now  an  exile,  a  suppliant,  a  mendicant?  His 
calamities  had  been  greater  than  even  those  of  the  Blessed 
Martyr  from  whom  he  sprang.  The  father  had  been  slain 
by  avowed  and  deadly  foes:  the  ruin  of  the  son  had  been 
the  work  of  his  own  children.  Surely  the  punishment, 
even  if  deserved,  should  have  been  inflicted  by  other  hands. 
And  was  it  altogether  deserved?  Had  not  the  unhappy 
man  been  rather  weak  and  rash  than  wicked?  Had  he  not 
some  of  the  qualities  of  an  excellent  prince?  His  abilities 
were  certainly  not  of  a  high  order:  but  he  was  diligent: 
he  was  thrifty:  he  had  fought  bravely:  he  had  been  his 
own  minister  for  maritime  affairs,  and  had,  in  that  capacity 
acquitted  himself  respectably:  he  had,  till  spiritual  guides 
obtained  a  fatal  ascendency  over  his  mind,  been  regarded 
as  a  man  of  strict  justice;  and,  to  the  last,  when  he  was  not 
misled  by  them,  he  generally  spoke  truth  and  dealt  fairly. 
With  so  many  virtues  he  might,  if  he  had  been  a  Protestant, 
nay,  if  he  had  been  a  moderate  Roman  Catholic,  have  had  a 
prosperous  and  glorious  reign.  Perhaps  it  might  not  be 
too  late  for  him  to  retrieve  his  errors.  It  was  difficult  to 
believe  that  he  could  be  so  dull  and  perverse  as  not  to  have 
profited  by  the  terrible  discipline  which  he  had  recently 
undergone;  and,  if  that  discipline  had  produced  the  effects 
which  might  reasonably  be  expected  from  it,  England  might 
still  enjoy,  under  her  legitimate  ruler,  a  larger  measure 
of  happiness  and  tranquillity  than  she  could  expect  from 
the  administration  of  the  best  and  ablest  usurper. 

We  should  do  great  injustice  to  those  who  held  this  lan- 
guage, if  we  suppose  that  they  had,  as  a  body,  ceased  to 
regard  Popery  and  despotism  with  abhorrence.  Some 
zealots  might  indeed  be  found  who  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  imposing  conditions  on  their  King,  and  who 
were  ready  to  recall  liim  without  the  smallest  assurance 
that  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence  should  not  be  instantly 
republished,  that  the  High  Commission  should  not  be  in- 
stantly revived,  that  Petre  should  not  be  again  seated  at 
the  Council  Board,  and  that  the    Fellows  of  Magdalene 


8 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


should  not  again  be  ejected.  But  the  number  of  these  metf 
was  small.  On  the  otlier  hand,  the  number  of  those  Roj- 
alists,  who,  if  James  would  have  acknowledged  his  mistakes 
and  promised  to  observe  the  laws,  were  ready  to  rally  routid 
liim,  was  very  large.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  two  able 
and  experienced  statesmen,  who  had  borne  a  chief  part  in 
the  Revolution,  frankly  acknowledged,  a  few  days  after  the 
Revolution  had  been  accomplished,  their  apprehension  that 
a  Restoration  was  close  at  hand.  "  If  King  James  were  a 
Protestant,"  said  Halifax  to  Reresby,  we  could  not  keep 
him  out  four  months."  "If  King  James,"  said  Danby  to 
Reresby  about  the  same  time,  "would  but  give  the  country 
some  satisfaction  about  religion,  which  he  might  easily  do, 
it  would  be  very  hard  to  make  head  against  him."  *  Hap- 
pily for  England,  James  was,  as  usual,  his  own  worst  ene- 
my. No  word  indicating  that  he  took  blame  to  himself  on 
account  of  the  past,  or  that  he  intended  to  govern  constitu- 
tionally for  the  future,  could  be  extracted  from  him.  Every 
letter,  every  rumor,  that  found  its  way  from  Saint  Ger- 
mains  to  England  made  men  of  sense  fear  that,  if,  in  his 
present  temper,  he  should  be  restored  to  power,  the  second 
tyranny  would  be  worse  than  the  first.  Thus  the  Tories, 
as  a  body,  were  forced  to  admit,  very  unwillingly,  that 
there  was,  at  that  moment,  no  choice  but  between  William 
and  public  ruin.  They  therefore,  without  altogether  relin- 
quishing the  hope  that  he  who  was  King  by  right  might 
at  some  future  time  be  disposed  to  listen  to  reason,  and 
without  feeling  anything  like  loyalty  towards  him  who  was 
King  in  possession,  discontentedly  endured  the  new  gov- 
ernment. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  that  government  was  not, 
durin-g  the  first  months  of  its  existence,  in  more  danger 
from  the  affection  of  the  Whigs  than  from  the  disaffection 
of  the  Tories.  Enmity  can  hardly  be  more  annoying  than 
querulous,  jealous,  exacting  fondness;  and  such  was  the 
fondness  which  the  Whigs  felt  for  the  Sovereign  of  their 
choice.  They  were  loud  in  his  praise.  They  w^ere  ready 
to  support  him  with  purse  and  sword  against  foreign  and 
domestic  foes.  But  their  attachment  to  him  was  of  a  pe- 
culiar kind.  Loyalty  such  as  had  animated  the  gallant 
gentlemen  who  had  fought  for  Charles  the  First,  loyalty 
such  as  had  rescued  Charles  the  Second  from  the  fearful 
dangers  and  difficulties  caused  by  twenty  years  of  malad- 

♦  Reresby's  Memoirs. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


9 


ministration,  was  not  a  sentiment  to  which  the  doctrines  of 
Milton  and  Sidney  were  favorable;  nor  was  it  a  sentiment 
which  a  prince,  just  raised  to  power  by  a  rebellion,  could 
hope  to  inspire.  The  Whig  theory  of  government  is  that 
kings  exist  for  the  people,  and  not  the  people  for  kings; 
that  the  right  of  a  king  is  divine  in  no  other  sense  than 
that  in  which  the  right  of  a  member  of  parliament,  of  s 
judge,  of  a  juryman,  of  a  mayor,  of  a  headborough,  is  di- 
vine; that  while  the  chief  magistrate  governs  according  to 
law,  he  ought  to  be  obeyed  and  reverenced;  that,  when  he 
violates  the  law  he  ought  to  be  withstood;  and  that,  when 
he  violates  the  law,  grossly,  systematicallv,  and  per- 
jtinaciously,  he  ought  to  be  deposed.  On  the  truth 
of  these  principles  depended  the  justice  ot  William's 
title  to  the  throne.  It  is  obvious  that  the  rela- 
tion between  subjects  who  held  these  principles,  and  a 
ruler  whose  accession  had  been  the  triumph  of  these  prin- 
ciples, must  have  been  altogether  different  from  the  rela- 
tion  which  had  subsisted  between  the  Stuarts  and  the* 
Cavaliers.  The  Whigs  loved  William  indeed:  but  they 
loved  him,  not  as  a  king,  but  as  a  party  leader;  and  it  wa? 
not  difficult  to  foresee  that  their  enthusiasm  would  cool 
fast  if  he  should  refuse  to  be  the  mere  leader  of  their  party, 
and  should  attempt  to  be  king  of  the  whole  nation.  What 
they  expected  from  him  in  return  for  their  devotion  to  his 
cause  was  that  he  should  be  one  of  themselves,  a  staunch 
and  ardent  Whig;  that  he  should  show  favor  to  none  but 
Whigs;  that  he  should  make  all  the  old  grudges  of  the 
Whigs  his  own;  and  there  was  but  too  much  reason  to  ap- 
prehend that,  if  he  disappointed  this  expectation,  the  only 
section  of  the  community  which  was  zealous  in  his  cause 
would  be  estranged  from  h;m.* 

Such  were  the  difficulties  by  which  at  the  moment  of  his 
elevation,  he  found  himself  beset.  Where  there  was  a  good 
path  he  had  seldom  failed  to  choose  it.  But  now  he  had 
only  a  choice  among  paths  every  one  cf  which  seemed 
likely  to  lead  to  destruction.  From  one  faction  he  could 
hope  for  no  cordial  support.  The  cordial  support  of  the 
other  faction  he  could  retain  only  by  becoming  the  most 
factious  man  in  his  kingdom,  a  Shaftesbury  on  the  throne. 

*  Here,  and  in  many  other  places,  I  abstain  from  citing  authorities,  because  my  au- 
thorities are  too  numerous  to  cite.  My  notions  of  the  temper  and  relative  position  of 
political  and  religious  parties  in  the  reign  of  William  the  Third,  have  been  derived,  not 
from  any  single  work,  but  from  thousands  of  forgotten  tracts,  sermons,  and  satires;  in 
fact,  from  a  whole  literature  which  is  mouldering  in  old  libraries. 


t&  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

If  he  persecuted  the  Tories,  their  sulkiness  would  infalli- 
ble be  turned  into  fury.  If  he  showed  favor  to  the  Tories, 
it  was  by  no  means  certain  that  he  would  gain  their  good- 
will; and  it  was  but  too  probable  that  he  might  lose  his 
hold  on  the  hearts  of  the  Whigs.  Something  however  he 
must  do:  something  he  must  risk:  a  Privy  Council  must 
be  sworn  in:  all  the  great  offices,  political  and  judicial, 
must  be  filled.  It  was  impossible  to  make  an  arrangement 
that  would  please  everybody,  and  difficult  to  make  an  ar- 
rangement that  would  please  anybody:  but  an  arrange- 
ment must  be  made. 

What  is  now  called  a  ministry  he  did  not  think  of  form- 
ing. Indeed  what  is  now  called  a  ministry  was  never 
known  in  England  till  he  had  been  some  years  on  the 
throne.  Under  the  Plantagenets,  the  Tudors,  and  the 
Stuarts,  there  had  been  ministers:  but  there  had  been  no 
ministry.  The  servants  of  the  Crown  were  not,  as  now, 
bound  in  frankpledge  for  each  other.  They  were  not  ex- 
pected to  be  of  the  same  opinion,  even  on  questions  of  the 
gravest  importance.  Often  they  were  politically  and  per- 
sonally hostile  to  each  other,  and  made  no  secret  of  their 
hostility.  It  was.not  yet  felt  to  be  inconvenient  or  unseem- 
ly that  they  should  accuse  each  other  of  high  crimes,  and 
demand  each  other's  heads.  No  man  had  beei)  more  active 
in  the  impeachment  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  Clarendon  than 
Coventry,  who  was  a  Commissioner  of  the  Treasury.  No 
man  had  been  more  active  in  the  impeachment  of  the 
Lord  Treasurer  Danby  than  Winnington,  who  was  Solici- 
tor General.  Among  the  members  of  the  Government 
there  was  only  one  point  of  union,  their  common  head  the 
Sovereign.  The  nation  considered  him  as  the  proper 
chief  of  the  administration,  and  blamed  him  severely  if  he 
delegated  his  high  functions  to  any  subject.  Clarendon 
has  told  us  that  nothing  was  so  hateful  to  the  Englishmen 
of  his  time  as  a  Prime  Minister.  They  w^ould  rather,  he 
said,  be  subject  to  an  usurper  like  Oliver,  who  was  first 
magistrate  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name,  than  to  a  legitimate 
King  who  referred  them  to  a  Grand  Vizier.  One  of  the 
chief  accusations  which  the  country  party  had  brought 
against  Charles  the  Second  was  that  he  was  too  indolent 
and  too  fond  of  pleasure  to  examine  with  care  the 
balance  sheets  of  public  accountants  and  the  inventories  of 
military  stores.  James,  when  he  came  to  the  crown,  had 
determined  to  appoint  no  Lord  High  Admiral  or  Board  of 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


Admiralty,  and  to  keep  the  entire  direction  of  maritime 
affairs  in  his  own  hands;  and  this  arrangement,  which 
would  now  be  thought  by  men  of  all  parties  unconstitu- 
tional and  pernicious  in  the  highest  degree,  was  then  gen- 
erally a*pplauded  even  by  people  who  were  not  inclined  to 
see  his  conduct  in  a  favorable  light.  How  completely  the 
relation  in  which  the  King  stood  to  his  Parliament  and  to 
his  ministers  had  been  altered  by  the  Revolution  was  not 
at  first  understood  even  by  the  most  enlightened  states- 
men. It  was  universally  supposed  that  the  government 
would,  as  in  time  past,  be  conducted  by  functionaries  inde- 
pendent of  each  other,  and  that  William  would  exercise  a 
general  superintendence  over  them  all.  It  was  also  full}'- 
expected  that  a  prince  of  William's  capacity  and  experi- 
ence would  transact  much  important  business  without  hav- 
ing recourse  to  any  adviser. 

There  were  therefore  no  complaints  when  it  was  under- 
stood that  he  had  reserved  to  himself  the  direction  of 
foreign  affairs.  This  was  indeed  scarcely  matter  of  choice: 
for,  with  the  single  exception  of  Sir  William  Temple, 
whom  nothing  would  induce  to  quit  his  retreat  for  public 
life,  there  was  no  Englishman  who  had  proved  himself 
capable  of  conducting  an  important  negotiation  with  for- 
eign powers  to  a  successful  and  honorable  issue.  Many 
years  had  elapsed  since  England  had  interfered  with 
weight  and  dignity  in  the  affairs  of  the  great  common- 
wealth of  nations.  The  attention  of  the  ablest  English 
politicians  had  long  been  almost  exclusively  occupied  by 
disputes  concerning  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  constitu- 
tion of  their  own  country.  The  contests  about  the  Popish 
Plot  and  the  Exclusion  Bill,  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  and 
the  Test  Act,  had  produced  an  abundance,  indeed  a  glut, 
of  those  talents  which  raise  men  to  eminence  in  societies 
torn  by  internal  factions.  All  the  continent  could  not  show 
such  skillful  and  wary  leaders  of  parties,  such  dexterous 
parliamentary  tacticians,  such  ready  and  eloquent  debaters, 
as  were  assembled  at  Westminster.  But  a  very  different 
training  was  necessary  to  form  a  great  minister  for  foreign 
affairs;  and  the  Revolution  had  on  a  sudden  placed  Eng- 
land in  a  situation  in  which  the  services  of  a  great  minister 
for  foreign  affairs  were  indispensable  to  her.- 

William  was  admirably  qualified  to  supply  that  in 
which  the  most  accomplished  statesmen  of  his  kingdom 
were  deficient,     He  had  long  been  pre-eminently  dis- 


12 


HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


tinguished  as  a  negotiator  He  was  the  author  and  the 
soul  of  the  European  coalition  against  the  French  ascend- 
ency. The  clue,  without  which  it  was  perilous  to  enter 
the  vast  and  intricate  maze  of  Continental  politics,  was  in 
his  hands.  His  English  counsellors,  therefore,  liowever 
able  and  active,  seldom,  during  his  reign,  ventured  to 
meddle  with  that  part  of  the  public  business  which  he 
had  taken  as  his  peculiar  province.^ 

The  internal  government  of  England  could  be  carried 
on  only  by  the  advice  and  agency  of  English  ministers. 
Those  ministers  William  selected  in  such  a  manner  as 
showed  that  he  was  determined  not  to  proscribe  any  set 
of  men  who  were  willing  to  support  his  throne.  On  the 
day  after  the  crown  had  been  presented  to  him  in  the 
Banqueting  House  the  Privy  Council  was  sworn  in.  Most 
of  the  Councillors  were  Whigs:  but  the  names  of  several 
eminent  Tories  appeared  in  the  list.f  The  four  highest 
offices  in  the  state  were  assigned  to  four  noblemen,  the 
representatives  of  four  classes  of  politicians. 

In  practical  ability  and  official  experience  Danby  had  no 
superior  among  his  contemporaries.  To  the  gratitude  of 
the  new  Sovereigns  he  had  a  strong  claim;  for  it  was  by 
his  dexterity  that  their  marriage  had  been  brought  about 
in  spite  of  difficulties  which  had  seemed  insuperable. 
The  enmity  which  he  had  always  borne  to  France  was  a 
scarcely  less  powerful  recommendation.  He  had  signed 
the  invitation  of  the  thirtieth  of  June,  had  excited  and 
directed  the  Northern  Insurrection,  and  had,  in  the  Con- 
vention, exerted  all  his  influence  and  eloquence  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  scheme  of  Regency.  Yet  the  Whigs  regarded 
him  with  unconquerable  distrust  and  aversion.  They 
could  not  forget  that  he  had,  in  evil  days,  been  the  first 
minister  of  the  state,  the  head  of  the  Cavaliers,  the  cham- 
pion of  prerogative,  the  persecutor  of  dissenters.  Even 
in  becoming  a  rebel,  he  had  not  ceased  to  be  a  Tory.  If 
he  had  drawn  the  sword  against  the  crown,  he  had  drawn 
it  only  in  defence  of  the  Church.^  If  he  had,  in  the  Con- 
vention, done  good  by  opposing  the  scheme  of  Regency, 
he  had  done  harm  by  obstinately  maintaining  that  the 
throne  was  not  vacant,  and  that  the  Estates  had  no  right 

*  The  following  passage  in  a  tract  of  that  time  expresses  the  general  opinion.  He 
has  better  knowledge  of  foreign  affairs  than  we  have;  but  in  English  business  it  is  no 
dishonor  to  him  to  be  told  his  relation  to  us,  the  nature  of  it,  and  what  is  fit  for  him^  ta 
4o." — An  Honest  Commoner's  Speech. 

t  London  Gazette.  Feb.  i8,  1688-9. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


13 


to  determine  who  should  fill  it.  The  Whigs  were  there- 
fore of  opinion  that  he  ought  to  think  himself  amply  re- 
warded for  his  recent  merits  by  being  suffered  to  escape 
the  punishment  of  those  offences  for  which  he  had  been 
impeached  ten  years  before.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  esti- 
mated his  own  abilities  and  services,  which  were  doubtless 
considerable,  at  their  full  value,  and  thought  himself  en- 
titled to  the  great  place  of  Lord  High  Treasurer,  which 
he  had  formerly  held.  But  he  was  disappointed.  Wil- 
liam, on  principle,  thought  it  desirable  to  divide  the  power 
and  patronage  of  the  Treasury  among  several  Commis- 
sioners. He  was  the  first  English  King  who  never,  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his  reign,  trusted  the  white 
staff  in  the  hands  of  a  single  subject.  Danby  was  offered 
his  choice  between  the  Presidency  of  the  Council  and  a 
Secretaryship  of  State.  .  He  sullenly  accepted  the  Presi- 
dency, and  while  the  Whigs  murmured  at  seeing  him 
placed  so  high,  hardly  attempted  to  conceal  his  anger  at 
not  having  been  placed  higher.* 

'  Halifax,  the  most  illustrious  man  of  that  small  party 
which  boasted  that  it  kept  the  balance  even  between  Whigs 
and  Tories,  took  charge  of  the  Privy  Seal,  and  continued 
to  be  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Lords. f  He  had  been  fore- 
most in  strictly  legal  opposition  to  the  late  Government, 
and  had  spoken  and  written  with  great  ability  against  the 
dispensing  power:  but  he  had  refused  to  know  anything 
about  the  design  of  invasion:  he  had  labored,  even  when  the 
Dutch  were  in  full  march  towards  London,  to  effect  a  recon- 
ciliation; and  he  had  never  deserted  James  till  James  had 
deserted  the  throne.  But,  from  the  moment  of  that  shameful 
flight,  the  sagacious  Trimmer,  convinced  that  compromise 
was  thenceforth  impossible,  had  taken  a  decided  part.  He 
had  distinguished  himself  pre-eminently  in  the  Conven- 
tion; nor  was  it  without  a  peculiar  propriety  that  he  had 
been  appointed  to  the  honorable  office  of  tendering  the 
crown,  in  the  name  of  all  the  Estates  of  England,  to  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Orange:  for  our  Revolution,  as  far 
as  it  can  be  said  to  bear  the  character  of  any  single  mind, 
assuredly  bears  the  character  of  the  large  yet  cautious 
mind  of  Halifax.  The  Whigs,  however,  were  not  in  a 
temper  to  accept  a  recent  service  as  an  atonement  for  an 
old  offence;  and  the  offence  of  Halifax  had  been  grave 


*  London  Gazette,  Feb.  18,  1688-9;  Sir  J.  Reresby's  Memoirs, 
t  London  Gazette,  Feb.  18, 1688-9;  Lords'  Journals. 


14 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


indeed.  He  had  long  before  been  conspicuous  in  their 
front  rank  during  a  hard  fight  for  liberty.  When  they 
were  at  length  victorious,  when  it  seemed  that  Whitehall 
was  at  their  mercy,  when  they  had  a  near  prospect  of  do- 
minion and  revenge,  he  had  changed  sides;  and  fortune 
had  changed  sides  with  him.  In  the  great  debate  on  the 
Exclusion  Bill,  his  eloquence  had  struck  the  opposition 
dumb,  and  had  put  new  life  into  the  inert  and  desponding 
party  of  the  Court.  It  was  true,  that,  though  he  had  left 
his  old  friends  in  the  day  of  their  insolent  prosperity,  he 
had  returned  to  them  in  the  day  of  their  distress.  But, 
now  that  their  distress  was  over,  they  forgot  that  he  had 
returned  to  them,  and  remembered  only  that  he  had  left 
them.* 

The  vexation  with  which  they  saw  Danby  presiding  in 
the  Council,  and  Halifax  bearing  the  Privy  Seal,  was  not 
diminished  by  the  news  that  Nottingham  was  appointed 
Secretary  of  State.  Some  of  those  zealous  churchmen 
who  had  never  ceased  to  profess  the  doctrine  of  non-re- 
sistance, who  thought  the  Revolution  unjustifiable,  who. 
had  voted  for  a  Regency,  and  who  had  to  the  last  main- 
tained that  the  English  throne  could  never  be  one  moment 
vacant,  yet  conceived  it  to  be  their  duty  to  submit  to  the 
decision  of  the  Convention.  They  had  not,  they  said, 
rebelled  against  James.  They  had  not  elected  Wil- 
liam. But,  now  that  they  saw  on  the  throne  a  Sovereign 
whom  they  never  would  have  placed  there,  they  were  of 
opinion  that  no  law,  divine,  or  human,  bound  them  to  carry 
the  contest  further.  They  thought  that  they  found,  both 
in  the  Bible  and  in  the  Statute  Book,  directions  which 
could  not  be  misunderstood.  The  Bible  enjoins  obedience 
to  the  powers  that  be.  The  Statute  Book  contains  an  Act 
providing  that  no  subject  shall  be  deemed  a  wrong-doer  for 
adhering  to  the  King  in  possession.  On  these  grounds 
many,  who  had  not  concurred  in  setting  up  the  new  gov- 
ernment, believed  that  they  might  give  it  their  support 
without  offence  to  God  or  man.  One  of  the  most  eminent 
politicians  of  this  school  was  Nottingham.  At  his  in- 
stance the  Convention  had,  before  the  throne  was  filled, 
made  such  changes  in  the  oath  of  allegiance  as  enabled 
him,  and  those  who  agreed  with  him,  to  take  that  oath 
without  scruple.  ^'  My  principles,"  he  said,  "do  not  permit 
me  to  bear  any  part  in  making  a  king.    But  when  a  king 

*  Burnet,  ii.  4. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


has  been  made,  my  principles  bind  me  to  pay  him  an 
obedience  more  strict  than  he  can  expect  from  those  who 
have  made  him."  He  now,  to  the  surprise  of  some  of 
those  who  most  esteemed  him,  consented  to  sit  in  the 
council,  and  to  accept  the  seals  of  Secretary.  William 
doubtless  hoped  that  this  appointment  would  be  con- 
sidered by  the  clergy  and  the  Tory  country  gentlemen  as 
a  sufficient  guarantee  that  no  evil  was  meditated  against 
the  Church.  Even  Burnet,  who  at  a  later  period  felt  a 
strong  antipathy  to  Nottingham,  owned,  in  some  memoirs 
written  soon  after  the  Revolution,  that  the  King  had 
judged  well,  and  that  the  influence  of  the  Tory  Secretary, 
honestly  exerted  in  support  of  the  new  Sovereigns,  had 
saved  England  from  great  calamities."^ 

The  other  secretary  was  Shrewsbury. f  No  man  so  young 
had  within  living  memory  occupied  so  high  a  post  in  the 
government.  He  had  but  just  completed  his  twenty- 
eighth  year.  Nobody,  however,  except  the  solemn  formal- 
ists at  the  Spanish  embassy,  thought  his  youth  an  objec- 
tion to  his  promotion.];  He  had  already  secured  for  him- 
self a  place  in  history  by  the  conspicuous  part  which  he 
had  taken  in  the  deliverance  of  his  country.  His  talents, 
his  accomplishments,  his  graceful  manners,  his  bland  tem- 
per, made  him  generally  popular.  By  the  Whigs  especi- 
ally he  was  almost  adored.  None  suspected  that,  wdth 
many  great  and  many  amiable  qualities,  he  had  such  faults 
both  of  head  and  of  heart  as  would  make  the  rest  of  a  life 
which  had  opened  under  the  fairest  auspices  burdensome 
to  himself  and  almost  useless  to  his  country. 

The  naval  administration  and  the  financial  administra- 
tion were  confided  to  Boards.  Herbert  was  First  Com- 
missioner of  the  Admiralty.  He  had  in  the  late  reign 
given  up  wealth  and  dignities  when  he  had  found  that  he 

*  These  memoirs  will  be  found  in  a  manuscript  volume,  which  is  part  of  the  Harleian 
Collection,  and  is  numbered  6584.  They  are  in  fact,  the  first  outlines  of  a  great  part  of 
Burnet's  History  of  His  Own  Times.  The  dates  at  which  the  different  portions  of  this 
most  curious  and  interesting  book  were  composed  are  marked.  Almost  the  v/hole  was 
written  before  the  death  of  Mary.  Burnet  did  not  begin  to  prepare  his  History  of  Wil- 
liam's Reign  for  the  press  till  ten  years  later.  By  that  time  his  opinions,  both  of  men 
and  of  things,  had  undergone  considerable  changes.  The  value  of  the  rough  draught 
is  therefore  very  great:  for  it  contains  some  facts  which  he  afterwards  thought  it  ad- 
visable to  suppress,  and  some  judgments  which  he  afterwards  saw  cause  to  alter.  I  must 
own  that  I  generally  like  his  first  thoughts  best.  Whenever  his  History  is  reprinted, 
it  ought  to  be  carefully  collated  with  this  volume. 

When  I  refer  to  the  Burnet  MS.  Harl.  6584,  I  wish  the  reader  to  understand  that  the 
MS.  contains  something  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  History. 

As  to  Nottingham's  appointment,  see  Burnet,  ii.  8;  the  London  Gazette  of  March  7, 
1688-9;  and  Clarendon's  Diary  of  Feb.  15. 

+  London  Gazette,  Feb.  18,  1688-9. 

$  Don  Pedro  de  Ronquillo  makes  this  objection. 


i6 


HISTORY  OJ-  ENGLAND. 


could  not  retain  them  with  honor  and  with  a  goad  con- 
science. He  had  carried  the  memorable  invitation  to  the 
Hague.  He  had  commanded  the  Dutch  fleet  during  the 
voyage  from  Helvoetsluys  to  Torbay.  His  character  for 
courage  and  professional  skill  stood  high.  That  he  had 
had  his  follies  and  vices  was  well  known.  But  his  recent 
conduct  in  the  time  of  severe  trial  had  atoned  for  all,  and 
seemed  to  warrant  the  hope  that  his  future  career  would 
be  glorious.  Among  the  commissioners  who  sate  with  him 
at  the  Admiralty  were  two  distinguished  members  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  William  Sacheverell,  a  veteran  Whig, 
who  had  great  authority  in  his  party,  and  Sir  John  Low- 
ther,  an  honest  and  very  moderate  Tory,  who  in  fortune  and 
parliamentary  interest  was  among  the  first  of  the  English 
gentry.* 

Mordaunt,  one  of  the  most  vehement  of  the  Whigs,  was 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  Treasury;  why,  it  is  difficult  to 
say.  His  romantic  courage,  his  flighty  wit,  his  eccentric 
invention,  his  love  of  desperate  risks  and  startling  effects, 
were  not  qualities  likely  to  be  of  much  use  to  him  in  finan- 
cial calculations  and  negotiations.  Delamere,  a  more  vehe- 
ment Whig,  if  possible,  than  Mordaunt,  sate  second  at  the 
board,  and  was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  Two  Whig 
members  of  the  House  of  Commons  were  in  the  Commis- 
sion, Sir  Henry  Capel,  brother  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  who 
died  by  his  own  hand  in  the  Tower,  and  Richard  Hamp- 
den, son  of  the  great  leader  of  the  Long  Parliament.  But 
the  Commissioner  on  whom  the  chief  weight  of  business 
lay  was  Godolphin.  This  man,  taciturn,  clear-minded, 
laborious,  inoffensive,  zealous  for  no  government,  and  use 
ful  to  every  government,  had  gradually  become  an  almost 
indispensable  part  of  the  machinery  of  the  state.  Though 
a  churchman,  he  had  prospered  in  a  Court  governed  by 
Jesuits.  Though  he  had  voted  for  a  Regency,  he  was  the 
real  head  of  a  Treasury  filled  with  Whigs.  His  abilities 
^nd  knowledge,  which  had  in  the  late  reign  supplied  the 
deficiencies  of  Bellasyse  and  Dover,  were  now  needed  to 
supply  the  deficiencies  of  Mordaunt  and  Delamere. f 

There  were  some  difficulties  in  disposing  of  the  Great 
Seal.  The  King  at  first  wished  to  confide  it  to  Notting- 
ham, whose  father  had  borne  it  during  several  years  with 
high  reputation. J     Nottingham,  however,  declined  the 


*  London  Gazette,  March  ii,  1688-9.  _  +  Ibid. 

t  I  hare  followed  what  seems  to  me  the  most  probable  story.    But  it  has  been  doubted 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


trust;  and  it  was  offered  to  Halifax,  but  was  again  declin- 
ed. Both  these  lords  doubtless  felt  that  it  was  a  trust 
which  they  could  not  discharge  with  honor  to  themselves 
or  with  advantage  to  the  public.  In  old  times,  indeed, 
the  Seal  had  been  generally  held  by  persons  who  were  not 
lawyers.  Even  in  the  seventeenth  century  it  had  been  con- 
fided to  two  eminent  men  who  had  never  studied  at  any  Inn 
of  Court.  Williams  had  been  Lord  Keeper  to  James  the  First. 
Shaftesbury  had  been  Lord  Chancellor  to  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond. But  such  appointments  could  no  longer  be  made 
without  serious  inconvenience.  Equity  had  been  gradu- 
ally shaping  itself  into  a  refined  science,  which  no  human 
faculties  could  master  without  long  and  intense  applica- 
tion. Even  Shaftesbury,  vigorous  as  was  his  intellect,  had 
painfullyfelt  his  want  of  technical  knowled?;-e;*  and  during 
the  fifteen  years  which  had  elapsed  since  Shaftesbury  had 
resigned  the  Seal,  technical  knowledge  had  constantly  been 
becoming  more  and  more  necessary  to  his  successors. 
Neither  Nottingham,  therefore,  though  he  had  a  stock  of 
legal  learning  such  as  is  rarely  found  in  any  person  who 
had  not  received  a  legal  education,  nor  Halifax,  though  in 
the  judicial  sittings  of  the  House  of  Lords,  the  quickness 
of  his  apprehension,  and  the  subtlety  of  his  reasoning  had 
often  astonished  the  bar,  ventured  to  accept  the  highest 
office  which  an  English  layman  can  fill.  After  some  delay 
the  Seal  was  confided  to  a  commission  of  eminent  lawyers, 
with  Maynard  at  their  head.f 

The  choice  of  judges  did  honor  to  the  new  government. 
Every  privy  councillor  was  directed  to  bring  a  list.  The 
lists  were  compared;  and  twelve  men  of  conspicuous  merit 
were  selected. J  The  professional  attainments  and  Whig 
principles  of  Pollexfen  gave  him  pretensions  to  the  highest 
place.  But  it  was  remembered  that  he  had  held  briefs  for 
the  crown,  in  the  Western  counties,  at  the  assizes  which 
followed  the  battle  of  Sedgemoor.  It  seems  indeed  from 
the  reports  of  the  trials,  that  he  did  as  little  as  he  could 
do  if  he  held  the  briefs  at  all,  and  that  he  left  to  the  judges 
the  business  of  browbeating  witnesses  and  prisoners. 
Nevertheless  his  name  was  inseparably  associated  in  the 

whether  Nottingham  was  invited  to  be  Chancellor,  or  only  to  be  First  Commissioner  of 
the  Great  Seal.  Compare  Burnett,  ii.  3,  and  Boyer's  History  of  William,  1702.  Nar- 
cissus Luttrell  repeatedly,  and  even  as  late  as  the  close  of  1692,  speaks  of  Nottingham 
as  likely  to  be  Chancellor. 

*  Roger  North  relates  an  amusing  story  about  Shaftesbury's  embarrasment. 

t  LQjidon  Gazette,  Mfirch  4,  X688-9.  $  Burnet,  ii,  |, 


i8 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


public  mind  with  the  Bloody  Circuit.  He,  therefore,  c.'.uLj 
not  with  propriety  be  put  at  the  head  of  the  first  criminal 
court  in  the  realm. After  acting  during  a  few  weeks  as 
Attorney  General,  he  was  made  Chief  Justice  of  the  Com^ 
mon  Pleas.  Sir  John  Holt,  a  young  man,  but  distinguished 
by  learning,  integrity,  and  courage,  became  Chief  Justice 
of  the  King's  Bench.  Sir  Robert  Atkyns,  an  eminent  law- 
yer, who  had  passed  some  years  in  rural  retirement,  but 
whose  reputation  was  still  great  in  Westminster  Hall,  was 
appointed  Chief  Baron.  Powell,  who  had  been  disgraced 
on  account  of  his  honest  declaration  in  favor  of  the  bish- 
ops, again  took  his  seat  among  the  judges.  Treby  suc- 
ceeded Pollexfen  as  Attorney  General;  and  Somers  w^as 
made  Solicitor.f 

Two  of  the  chief  places  in  the  royal  household  were  filled 
by  two  English  noblemen  eminently  qualified  to  adorn  a 
court.  The  high-spirited  and  accomplished  Devonshire 
was  named  Lord  Steward.  No  man  had  done  more  or 
risked  more  for  England  during  the  crisis  of  her  fate.  In 
retrieving  her  liberties  he  had  retrieved  also  the  fortunes 
of  his  own  house.  His  bond  for  thirty  thousand  pounds 
was  found  among  the  papers  which  James  had  left  at 
Whitehall,  and  was  cancelled  by  William.  J 

Dorset  became  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  employed  the 
influence  and  patronage  annexed  to  his  functions,  as  he 
had  long  employed  his  private  means,  in  encouraging  gen- 
ius and  in  alleviating  misfortune.  One  of  the  first  acts 
which  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  performing  must  have 
been  painful  to  a  man  of  so  generous  a  nature,  and  of  so 
keen  a  relish  for  whatever  was  excellent  in  arts  and  letters. 
Dryden  could  no  longer  remain  Poet  Laureate.  The  pub- 
lic would  not  have  borne  to  see  any  Papist  among  the  ser- 
vants of  Their  Majesties;  and  Dryden  was  not  only  a  Pa- 
pist, but  an  apostate.  He  had  moreover  aggravated  the 
guilt  of  his  apostasy  by  calumniating  and  ridiculing  the 
church  which  he  had  deserted.  He  had,  it  was  facetiously 
said,  treated  her  as  the  Pagan  persecutors  of  old  treated 
her  children.  He  had  dressed  her  up  in  the  skin  of  a  wild 
beast,  and  then  baited  her  for  the  public  amusement.§  He 
was  removed;  but  he  received  from  the  private  bounty  of 

*  The  Protestant  Mask  taken  ofE  from  the  Jesuited  Englishman,  1692. 

t  These  appointments  were  not  announced  in  the  Gazette  till  the  6th  of  May;  but 
some  of  them  were  made  earlier. 

t  Kennet's  Funeral  Sermon  on  the  first  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and  Memoirs  of  th» 
family  of  Cavendish,  1708. 

§  See  a  poem  entitled,  A  Votive  Tablet  to  the  King  and  Queco. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


59 


the  magnificent  Chamberlain  a  pension  equal  to  the  salary 
which  had  been  withdrawn.  The  deposed  Laureate,  how- 
ever, as  poor  of  spirit  as  rich  in  intellectual  gifts,  continued 
to  complain  piteously,  year  after  year,  of  the  losses  which 
he  had  not  suffered^  till  at  length  his  wailings  drew  forth 
expressions  of  well  merited  contempt  from  brave  and  hon- 
est Jacobites,  who  had  sacrificed  everything  to  their  princi- 
ples without  deigning  to  utter  one  word  of  deprecation  or 
lamentation.* 

In  the  royal  household  were  placed  some  of  those  Dutch 
nobles  who  stood  highest  in  the  favor  of  the  King.  Ben- 
tinck  had  the  great  office  of  Groom  of  the  Stole,  with  a 
salary  of  five  thousand  pounds  a  year.  Zulestein  took 
charge  of  the  robes.  The  Master  ©f  the  Horse  was  Auver- 
querque,  a  gallant  soldier,  who  united  the  blood  of  Nassau 
to  the  blood  of  Horn,  and  who  wore  with  just  pride  a 
costly  sword  presented  to  him  by  the  States  General  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  courage  with  which  he  had,  on 
the  bloody  day  of  Saint  Dennis,  saved  the  life  of  William. 

The  place  of  Vice  Chamberlain  to  the  Queen  was  given 
to  a  man  who  had  just  become  conspicuous  in  public  life, 
and  whose  name  will  frequently  recur  in  the  history  of  this 
reign.  John  Howe,  or,  as  he  was  more  commonly  called, 
Jack  Howe,  had  been  sent  up  to  the  Convention  by  the 
borough  of  Cirencester.  His  appearance  was  that  of  a  man 
whose  body  was  worn  by  the  constant  workings  of  a  rest- 
less and  acrid  mind.  He  was  tall,  lean,  pale,  with  a  hag- 
gard, eager  look,  expressive  at  once  of  flightiness  and  of 
shrewdness.  He  had  been  known,  during  several  years, 
as  a  small  poet;  and  some  of  the  most,  savage  lampoons 
which  were  handed  about  the  coffee-houses  were  imputed 
to  him.    But  it  was  in  the  House  of  Commons  that  both 

*  See  Prior's  Dedication  of  his  Poems  to  Dorset's  son  and  successor,  and  Dryden's  Es- 
say on  Satire  prefixed  to  the  translations  from  Juvenal.  There  is  a  bitter  sneer  on  Dry- 
den's effeminate  querulousness  in  Collier's  Short  View  of  the  State.  In  Blackmore's 
Prince  Arthur,  a  poem,  which,  worthless  as  it  is,  contains  some  curious  allusions  to 
contemporary  men  and  events,  are  the  following  lines: 

"  The  poets'  nation  did  obsequious  wait 
For  the  kind  dole  divided  at  hi_s  gate. 
Laurus  among  the  meagre  crowd  appeared, 
An  old,  revolted,  unbelieving  bard, 

Who  thronged,  and  shoved,  and  pressed,  and  would  be  heard. 

Sakil's  high  roof,  the  Muses'  palace,  rung 

With  endless  cries,  and  endless  songs  he  sung. 

To  bless  good  Sakil  Laurus  would  be  first; 

But  Sakil's  prince  and  Sakil's  God  he  curst. 

Sakil  without  distinction,  threw  his  bread, 

Despised  the  flatterer,  but  the  poet  fed." 
I  need  not  say  that  Sakil  is  Sackville,  or  that  Laurus  is  a  translation  of  the  famous 
nickname  Bayes. 


26 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


his  parts  and  his  ill-nature  were  most  signally  displayed. 
Before  he  had  been  a  member  three  weeks,  his  volubility, 
his  asperity,  and  his  pertinacity  had  made  him  conspicu- 
jous.  Quickness,  energy,  and  audacity,  united,  soon  raised 
him  to  the  rank  of  a  privileged  man.  His  enemies, — 
and  he  had  many  enemies, — said  that  he  consulted  his  per- 
sonal safety  even  in  his  most  petulant  moods,  and  that  he 
treated  soldiers  with  a  civility  which  he  never  showed  to 
ladies  or  to  bishops.  But  no  man  had  in  larger  measure 
that  evil  courage  which  braves  and  even  courts  disgust 
and  hatred.  No  decencies  restrained  him;  his  spite  was 
implacable:  his  skill  in  finding  out  the  vulnerable  parts  of 
strong  minds  w^as  consummate.  All  his  great  contempo- 
raries felt  his  stingin  their  turns.  Once  it  inflicted  a  wound 
which  deranged  even  the  stern  composure  of  William,  and 
constrained  him  to  utter  a  wish  that  he  were  a  private 
gentleman,  and  could  invite  Mr.  Howe  to  a  short  interview 
behind  Montague  House.  As  yet,  however,  Howe  was 
reckoned  among  the  most  strenuous  supporters  of  the  new 
government,  and  directed  all  his  sarcasms  and  invectives 
against  the  malcontents.* 

The  subordinate  places  in  every  public  office  were  di 
vided  between  the  two  parties;  but  the  Whigs  had  the 
larger  share.  Some  persons,  indeed,  who  did  little  honor 
to  the  Whig  name,  were  largely  recompensed  for  services 
which  no  good  man  would  have  performed.  Wildman 
was  made  Postmaster  General.  A  lucrative  sinecure  in  the 
Excise  was  bestowed  on  Ferguson.  The  duties  of  the  So- 
licitor of  the  Treasury  were  very  important  and  very  invid- 
ious. It  was  the  business  of  that  officer  to  conduct  politi- 
cal prosecutions,  to  collect  the  evidence,  to  instruct  the 
counsel  for  the  Crown,  to  see  that  the  prisoners  were  not 
liberated  on  insufficient  bail,  to  see  that  the  juries  were  not 
composed  of  persons  hostile  to  the  government.  In  the 
days  of  Charles  and  James,  the  Solicitor  of  the  Treasury 
had  been,  with  too  much  reason,  accused  of  employing  all 
the  vilest  artifices  of  chicanery  against  men  obnoxious  to 
the  Court.    The  new  governmenc  ought  to  have  made  a 

*  Scarcely  any  man  of  that  age  is  more  frequently  mentioned  in  pamphlets  and  satires 
than  Howe.    In  the  famous  Petition  of  Legion,  he  is  designated  as ''that  inipudent 
scandal  of  Parliament,"    Mackay's  account  of  him  is  curious.    In  a  poem  written  ia 
1690,  which  I  have  never  seen  except  in  manuscript,  are  the  following  lines: 
*'  First  for  Jack  Howe  with  his  terrible  talent, 
Happy  the  female  that  scapes  his  lampoon; 
Against  the  ladies  excessively  valiant, 
But  very  respectful  to  a  Dragoon." 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


2t 


choice  which  was  above  all  suspicion.  Unfortunately 
Mordaunt  and  Delamere  pitched  upon  Aaron  Smith,  an 
acrimonious  and  unprincipled  politician,  wlio  had  been  the 
legal  adviser  of  Titus  Oates  in  the  days  of  the  Popish  Plot, 
and  v^ho  had  been  deeply  implicated  in  the  Rye  House 
Plot.  Richard  Hampden,  a  man  of  decided  opinions,  but 
of  moderate  temper,  objected  to  this  appointment.  His 
objections  however  were  overruled.  The  Jacobites,  who 
hated  Smith  and  had  reason  to  hate  him,  affirmed  that  he 
had  obtained  his  place  by  bullying  the  Lords  of  the  Treas- 
ury, and  particularly  by  threatening  that,  if  his  just  claims 
were  disregarded,  he  would  be  the  deatii  of  Hampden.^' 

Some  weeks  elapsed  before  all  the  arrangements  which 
have  been  mentioned  were  publicly  announced:  and  mean- 
while many  important  events  had  taken  place.  As  soon  as 
the  new  Privy  Councillors  had  been  sworn  in,  it  was  nec- 
essary to  submit  to  them  a  grave  and  pressing  question. 
Could  the  Convention  now  assembled  be  turned  into  a 
Parliament?  The  Whigs,  who  had  a  decided  majority  in 
the  Lower  House,  were  all  for  the  affirmative.  The  To- 
ries, who  knew  that,  within  the  last  month,  the  public  feel- 
ing had  undergone  a  considerable  change,  and  who  hoped 
that  a  general  election  would  add  to  their  strength,  were 
for  the  negative.  They  maintained  that  to  the  existence 
of  a  Parliament  royal  writs  were  indispensably  necessary. 
The  Convention  had  not  been  summoned  by  such  writs: 
the  original  defect  could  not  now  be  supplied:  the  Houses 
were  therefore  mere  clubs  of  private  men,  and  ought  instant- 
ly to  disperse. 

It  was  answered  that  the  royal  writ  was  mere  matter  of 
form,  and  that  to  expose  the  substance  of  our  laws  and 
liberties  to  serious  hazard  for  the  sake  of  a  form  would  be 
the  most  senseless  superstition.  Wherever  the  Sovereign, 
the  Peers  spiritual  and  temporal,  and  the  Representatives 
freely  chosen  by  the  constituent  bodies  of  the  realm  w^ere 
met  together,  there  was  the  essence  of  a  Parliament.  Such 
a  Parliament  was  now  in  being;  and  what  could  be  more 
absurd  than  to  dissolve  it  at  a  conjuncture  when  every 
hour  was  precious,  when  numerous  important  subjects  re- 
quired immediate  legislation,  and  when  dangers,  only  to 
be  averted  by  the  combined  efforts  of  King,  Lords,  and 
Commons,  menaced  the  state?    A  Jacobite  indeed  might 


♦  sprat's  True  Account;  North's  Examen;  Letter  to  Chief  Justice  Holt,  1694;  Letter 
to  Secretary  Trenchard,  1694. 


22 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


consistently  refuse  to  recognize  the  Convention  as  a  Par- 
liament. For  he  held  that  it  had  from  the'beginning  T3een 
an  unlawful  assembly,  that  all  its  resolutions  were  nullities, 
and  that  the  Sovereigns  whom  it  had  setup  were  usurpers. 
But  with  what  consistency  could  any  man,  who  maintained 
that  a  new  Parliament  ought  to  be  immediately  called  by 
writs  under  the  great  seal  of  William  and  Mary,  question 
the  authority  which  had  placed  William  and  Mary  on  the 
throne?  Those  who  held  that  William  was  rightiul  King 
must  necessarily  hold  that  the  body  from  which  he  derived 
his  right  was  itself  a  rightful  Great  Council  of  the  Realm. 
Those  who,  though  not  holding  him  to  be  rightful  King, 
conceived  that  tliey  might  lawfully  swear  allegiance  to  him 
as  King  in  fact,  might  surely,  on  the  same  principle,  ac- 
knowledge the  Convention  as  a  Parliam.ent  in  fact  It 
was  plain  that  the  Convention  was  the  fountain-head  from 
which  the  authority  of  all  future  Parliaments  must  be  de- 
rived, and  that  on  the  validity  of  the  votes  of  the  Conven- 
tion must  depend  the  validity  of  every  future  statute.  And 
how  could  the  stream  rise  higher  than  the  source?  Was  it- 
not  absurd  to  say  that  the  Convention  was  supreme  in  the 
state,  and  yet  a  nullity;  a  legislature  for  the  highest  of  all 
purposes,  and  yet  no  legislature  for  the  humblest  purposes; 
competent  to  declare  the  throne  vacant,  to  change  the  suc- 
cession, to  fix  the  landmarks  of  the  constitution,  and  yet 
not  competent  to  pass  the  most  trivial  Act  for  the  repair- 
ing of  a  pier  or  the  building  of  a  parish  church? 

These  arguments  w^ould  have  had  considerable  weight, 
even  if  every  precedent  had  been  on  the  other  side.  But 
in  truth  our  history  afforded  only  one  precedent  which 
was  at  all  in  point;  and  that  precedent  was  decisive  in 
favor  of  the  doctrine  that  royal  writs  are  not  indispen- 
sably necessary  to  the  existence  of  a  Parliament.  No 
royal  writ  had  summoned  the  Convention  w'hich  recalled 
Charles  the  Second.  Yet  that  Convention  had,  after  his 
Restoration,  continued  to  sit  and  to  Legislate,  had  settled 
the  revenue,  had  passed  an  Act  of  amnesty,  had  abolished 
the  feudal  tenures.  These  proceedings  had  been  sanctioned 
by  authority  of  w^hich  no  party  in  the  state  could  speak  with- 
out reverence.  Hale,  a  juri-st  held  in  honor  by  every  Whig, 
had  borne  a  considerable  share  in  them,  ?nd  had  always 
maintained  that  they  were  strictly  legal.  Clarendon,  a 
Statesman  whose  memory  was  respected  by  the  great  body 
of  Tories,  little  as  he  w^as  inclined  to  favor  any  doctrine 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


23 


derogatory  to  the  rights  of  the  Crown,  or  to  the  dignity 
of  that  seal  of  which  he  was  keeper,  had  declared  that, 
since  God  had,  at  a  most  critical  conjuncture,  given  the 
nation  a  good  Parliament,  it  would  be  the  height  of  folly  to 
look  for  technical  flaws  in  the  instrument  by  which  that 
Parliament  was  called  together.  Would  it  be  pretended 
that  the  Convention  of  1660  had  a  more  respectable  origin 
than  the  Convention  of  1689?  Was  not  a  letter  written  by 
the  first  Prince  of  the  Blood,  at  the  request  of  the  whole 
peerage,  and  of  hundreds  of  gentlemen  who  had  repre- 
sented counties  and  towns,  at  least  as  good  a  warrant  as  a 
vote  of  the  Rump? 

Weaker  reasons  than  these  would  have  satisfied  the 
Whigs  who  formed  the  majority  of  the  Privy  Council. 
The  King,  therefore,  on  the  fifth  day  after  he  had  been 
proclaimed,  went  with  royal  state  to  the  House  of 
Lords,  and  took  his  seat  on  the  throne.  The  Commons 
were  called  in;  and  he,  with  many  gracious  expressions, 
reminded  his  hearers  of  the  perilous  situation  of  the 
country,  and  exhorted  them  to  take  such  steps  as  might 
prevent  unnecessary  delay  in  the  transaction  of  public 
business.  His  speech  was  received  by  the  gentlemen  who 
crowded  the  bar  with  the  deep  hum  by  which  our  ances- 
tors were  wont  to  indicate  approbation,  and  which  was 
often  heard  in  places  more  sacred  than  the  Chamber  of 
the  Peers.*  As  soon  as  he  had  retired,  a  Bill  declaring  the 
Convention  a  Parliament  was  laid  on  the  table  of  the 
Lords,  and  rapidly  passed  by  them.  In  the  Commons  the 
debates  were  warm.  The  house  resolved  itself  into  a 
Committee;  and  so  great  was  the  excitement  that,  when 
the  authority  of  the  Speaker  was  withdrawn,  it  was  hardly 
possible  to  preserve  order.  Sharp  personalities  were  ex- 
changed. The  phrase,  "Hear  him,"  a  pKrase  which  had 
originally  been  used  only  to  silence  irregular  noises,  and 
to  remind  members  of  the  duty  of  attending  to  the  discus- 
sion, had,  during  some  years,  been  gradually  becoming 
what  it  now  is;  that  is  to  say,  a  cry  indicative,  according 
to  the  tone,  of  admiration,  acquiescence,  indignation,  or 
derision.  On  this  occasion,  the  Whigs  vociferated  "Hear, 
hear,"  so  tumultuously  that  the  Tories  complained  of  un- 
fair usage.  Seymour,  the  leader  of  the  minority,  declared 
that  there  could  be  no  freedom  of  debate  while  such  clam- 


24 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


or  was  tolerated.  Some  old  Whig  members  were  pro- 
voked into  reminding  him  that  the  same  clamor  had 
cccasionally  been  heard  when  he  presided,  and  had  not 
then  been  repressed.  Yet,  eager  and  angry  as  both  sides 
were,  the  speeches  on  both  sides  indicated  that  profound 
reverence  for  law  and  prescription  w^hich  has  long  been 
characteristic  of  Englishmen,  and  which,  though  it  some- 
times runs  into  pedantry  and  sometimes  into  superstition, 
is  not  without  its  advantages.  Even  at  that  momentous 
crisis,  when  the  nation  was  still  in  the  ferment  of  a  revo- 
lution, our  public  m.en  talked  long  and  seriously  about  all 
the  circumstances  of  the  deposition  of  Edward  the  Second, 
and  of  the  deposition  of  Richard  the  Second,  and  anxious- 
ly inquired  whether  the  assembly  W'hich,  with  Archbishop 
Lanfranc  at  its  head,  set  aside  Robert  of  Normandy,  and 
put  William  Rufus  on  the  throne,  did  or  did  not  after- 
wards continue  to  act  as  the  legislature  of  the  realm. 
Much  was  said  about  the  history  of  writs;  much  about  the 
etymology  of  the  word  Parliament.  It  is  remarkable,  that 
the  orator  who  took  the  most  statesmanlike  view  of  the 
subject  w^as  old  Maynard.  In  the  civil  conflicts  of  fifty 
eventful  years  he  had  learned  that  questions  affecting  the 
highest  interests  of  the  commonwealth  were  not  to  be 
decided  by  verbal  cavils  and  by  scraps  of  Law  French  and 
Law  Latin;  and,  being  by  universal  acknowledgment  the 
most  subtle  and  the  most  learned  of  English  jurists,  he 
could  express  what  he  felt  without  the  risk  of  being  ac- 
cused of  ignorance  and  presumption.  He  scornfully 
thrust  aside  as  frivolous  and  out  of  place  all  that  black- 
letter  learning,  which  some  men,  far  less  versed  in  such 
matters  than  himself,  had  introduced  into  the  discussion. 
^*We  are,"  he  said,  "  at  this  moment  out  of  the  beaten 
path.  If  therefore  we  are  determined  to  move  only  in 
that  path,  we  cannot  move  at  all.  A  man  in  a  revolution 
resolving  to  do  nothing  which  is  not  strictly  according  to 
established  form  resembles  a  man  who  has  lost  himself  in 
the  wilderness,  and  who  stands  crying  *  Where  is  the 
king's  highway?  I  will  walk  nowhere  but  on  the  king's 
highway.'  In  a  wilderness  a  man  should  take  the  track 
which  will  carry  him  home.  In  a  revolution  we  must  have 
recourse  to  the  highest  law,  the  safety  of  the  state." 
Another  veteran  Roundhead,  Colonel  Birch,  took  the 
same  side,  and  argued  with  great  force  and  keenness  from 
the  precedent  of  j66o.    Seymjoyr  and  his  supporters  were 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY.  2^ 

beaten  in  the  Committee,  and  did  not  venture  to  divide 
the  House  on  the  report.  The  Bill  passed  rapidly,  and  re- 
ceived the  royal  assent  on  the  tenth  day  after  the  accession 
of  William  and  Mary.* 

The  law  which  turned  the  Convention  into  a  Parliament 
contained  a  clause  providing  that  no  person  should,  after 
the  first  of  March,  sit  or  vote  in  either  House  without  tak- 
ing the  oaths  to  the  new  King  and  Queen.  This  enact- 
ment produced  great  agitation  throughout  society.  The 
adherents  of  the  exiled  dynasty  hoped  and  confidently  pre- 
dicted that  the  recusants  would  be  numerous.  The  mi- 
nority in  both  Houses,  it  was  said,  would  be  true  to  the 
cause  of  hereditary  monarchy.  There  might  be  here  and 
there  a  traitor;  but  the  great  body  of  those  who  had  voted 
for  a  Regency  would  be  firm.  Only  two  bishops  at  most 
would  recognize  the  usurpers.  Seymour  would  retire 
from  public  life  rather  than  abjure  his  principles.  Grafton 
had  determined  to  fly  to  France  and  throw  himself  at  the  feet 
of  his  uncle.  With  such  rumors  as  these  all  the  coffee-houses 
of  London  were  filled  during  the  latter  part  of  February. 
So  intense  was  the  public  anxiety  that,  if  any  man  of  rank 
was  missed,  two  days  running,  at  his  usual  haunts,  it  was 
immediately  whispered  that  he  had  stolen  away  to  Saint 
Germains.f 

The  second  of  March  arrived;  and  the  event  quieted  the 
fears  of  one  party,  and  confounded  the  hopes  of  the  other. 
The  Primate  indeed  and  several  of  his  suffragans  stood 
obstinately  aloof :  but  three  bishops  and  seventy-three  tem- 
poral peers  took  the  oaths.  At  the  next  meeting  of  the 
Upper  House  several  more  prelates  came  in.  Within  a 
week  about  a  hundred  Lords  had  qualified  themselves  to 
sit.  Others,  who  were  prevented  by  illness  from  ap.pear- 
ing,  sent  excuses  and  professions  of  attachment  to  their 
Majesties.  Grafton  refuted  all  the  stories  which  had  been 
circulated  about  him  by  coming  to  be  sworn  on  the  first 
day.  Two  members  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Commission, 
Mulgrave  and  Sprat,  hastened  to  make  atonement  for  their 
fault  by  plighting  their  faith  to  William.  Beaufort,  who 
had  long  been  considered  as  the  type  of  a  royalist  of  the 
old  school,  submitted  after  a  very  short  hesitation.  Ayles- 

♦  Stat.  I  W.  &  M.  sess,  i.  c.  i.  See  the  Journals  of  the  two  Houses,  and  Grey's  De- 
bates. The  argument  in  favor  of  the  bill  is  well  stated  in  the  Paris  Gazettes  of  March 
5,  and  12,  1689. 

t  Both  Van  Citters  and  Ronquillo  mention  the  anxiety  which  was  felt  in  London  till 
the  result  was  known, 
Vol.  III-^. 


36 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


bury  and  Dartmouth  had  as  little  scruple  about  taking  the 
oath  of  allegiance  as  they  afterwards  had  about  breaking 
it.*  The  Hydes  took  different  paths.  Rochester  complied 
with  the  law;  but  Clarendon  proved  refractory.  Many 
thought  it  strange  that  the  brother  who  had  adhered  to 
James  till  James  absconded  should  be  less  sturdy  than  the 
brother  who  had  been  in  the  Dutch  camp.  The  explana- 
tion perhaps  is  that  Rochester  would  have  sacrificed  much 
more  than  Clarendon  by  refusing  to  take  the  oaths.  Clar- 
endon's income  did  not  depend  on  the  pleasure  of  the  Gov- 
ernment: but  Rochester  had  a  pension  of  four  thousand  a 
year,  which  he  could  not  hope  to  retain  if  he  refused  to 
acknowledge  the  new  Sovereigns.  Indeed,  he  had  so  many 
enemies  that,  during  some  months,  it  seemed  doubtful 
whether  he  would,  on  any  terms,  be  suffered  to  retain  the 
splendid  reward  which  he  had  earned  by  persecuting  the 
Whigs  and  by  sitting  in  the  High  Commission.  He  was 
saved  from  what  would  have  been  a  fatal  blow  to  his  for- 
tunes by  the  intercession  of  Burnet,  who  had  been  deeply 
injured  by  him,  and  who  revenged  himself  as  became  a 
Christian  divine. f 

In  the  Lower  House  four  hundred  members  were  sworn 
in  on  the  second  of  March;  and  among  them  was  Seymour. 
The  spirit  of  the  Jacobites  was  broken  by  his  defection; 
and  the  minority,  with  very  few  exceptions,  followed  his 
example. J 

Before  the  day  fixed  for  the  taking  of  the  oaths,  the  Com- 
mons had  begun  to  discuss  a  momentous  question  which 
admitted  of  no  delay.  During  the  interregnum,  William 
had,  as  provisional  chief  of  the  administration,  collected 
the  taxes  and  applied  them  to  the  public  service;  nor  could 
the  propriety  of  this  course  be  questioned  by  any  person 
who  approved  of  the  Revolution.  But  the  Revolutiorl was 
now  over:  the  vacancy  of  the  throne  had  been  supplied: 
the  Houses  were  sitting:  the  law  was  in  full  force;  and  it 
became  necessary  immediately  to  decide  to  what  revenue 
the  Government  was  entitled. 

It  was  not  denied  that  all  the  lands  and  hereditaments 
of  the  Crown  had  passed  with  the  Crown  to  the  new  Sover- 
eigns. It  was  not  denied  that  all  duties  which  had  been 
granted  to  the  Crown  for  a  fixed  term  of  years  might  be 

*  Lords'  Journals,  March,  1688-9. 

t  8ee  the  letters  of  Rochester  and  of  Lady  Ranelagh  to  Burnet  on  this  occasion. 

i  Journals  of  the  Commons,  March  2,  1688-9.    l^onquillo  wrote  as  follows:     Es  de 

§ran  consideracion  q  ie  Seimor  haya  tornado  el  juramento;  porque  es  el  arrengador  y  el 
irector  principal,  en  la  casa  de  los  Comunes,  de  los  Angiicanos." — March  8-18,  1688-9, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


2) 


constitutionally  exacted  till  that  term  should  expire.  But 
large  revenues  had  been  settled  by  Parliament  on  James 
for  life;  and  whether  what  had  been  settled  on  James  for 
life  could,  while  he  lived,  be  claimed  by  William  and  Mary, 
was  a  question  about  which  opinions  were  divided. 

Holt,  Treby,  PoUexfen,  indeed  all  the  eminent  Whig 
lawyers,  Somers  excepted,  held  that  these  revenues  had 
been  granted  to  the  late  King,  in  his  political  capacity,  but 
for  his  natural  life,  and  ought  therefore,  as  long  as  he  con- 
tinued to  drag  on  his  existence  in  a  strange  land,  to  be  paid 
to  William  and  Mary.    It  appears  from  a  very  concise  and 
unconnected  report  of  the  debate  that  Somers  dissented 
from  this  doctrine.    His  opinion  was  that,  if  the  Act  of 
Parliament  which  had  imposed  the  duties  in  question  was 
to  be  construed  according  to  the  spirit,  the  word  life  must 
be  understood  to  mean  reign,  and  that  therefore  the  term 
for  which  the  grant  had  been  made  had  expired.     This  was 
surely  the  sound  opinion:  for  it  was  plainly  irrational  to 
treat  the  interest  of  James  in  this  grant  as  at  once  a  thing 
annexed  to  his  person  and  a  thing  annexed   to  his  office; 
to  say  in  the  same  breath  that  the  merchants  of  London 
and  Bristol  must  pay  money  because  he  was  in  one  sense 
alive,  and  that  his  successors  must  receive  that  money  be- 
cause he  was  in  another  sense  defunct.     The  House  was 
decidedly  with  Somers.  The  members  generally  were  bent 
on  effecting  a  great  reform,  without  which  it  was  felt  that 
the  Declaration  of  Rights  would  be  but  an  imperfect 
guarantee  for  public  liberty.      During  the  conflict  which 
fifteen  successive  Parliaments  had  maintained  against  four 
successive  kings,  the  chief  weapon  of  the  Commons  had 
been  the  power  of  the  purse;  nor  had  the  representatives 
of  the  people  ever  been  induced  to  surrender  that  weapon 
without  having  speedy  cause  to  repent  of  their  too  credu- 
lous loyalty.    In  the  season  of  tumultuous  joy  which  fol- 
lowed the  Restoration,  a  large  revenue  for  life  had  been 
almost  by  acclamation  granted  to  Charles  the  Second.  A 
few  months  later  there  was  scarcely  a  respectable  Cavalier 
in  the  kingdom  who  did  not  own  that  the  stewards  of  the 
nation  would  have  acted  more  wisely  if  they  had  kept  in 
!heir  ha  nds  the  means  of  checking  the  abuses  which  dis- 
graced every  department  of  the  government.    James  the 
Second  had  obtained  from  his  submissive  Parliament,  with- 
out a  dissentient  voice,  an  income  amply  sufficient  to  de- 
fray the  ordinary  expenses  of  the  state  during  his  life;  and^ 


28 


HISTORY  ENGLAND. 


before  he  had  e^njoyed  that  income  hal{  a  year,  the  great 
majority  of  those  who  had  dealt  thus  liberally  with  him 
blame  d  themselves  severely  for  their  liberality.  If  exper- 
ience was  to  be  trusted,  a  long  and  painful  experience, 
there  could  be  no  effectual  security  against  maladminis- 
tration, unless  the  Sovereign  were  under  the  necessity  of 
recurring  frequently  to  his  Great  Council  for  pecuniary 
aid.  Almost  all  honest  and  enlightened  men  were  there- 
fore agreed  in  thinking  that  a  part  at  least  of  the  supplies 
ought  to  be  granted  only  for  a  short  term.  And  what  time 
could  be  fitter  for  the  introduction  of  this  new  practice 
than  the  year  1689,  the  commencement  of  a  new  reign,  of 
a  new  dynasty,  of  a  new  era  of  constitutional  government? 
The  feeling  on  this  subject  was  so  strong  and  general  that 
the  dissentient  minority  gave  way.  No  formal  resolution 
was  passed:  but  the  House  proceeded  to  act  on  the  suppo- 
sition that  the  grants  which  had  been  made  to  James  for 
life  had  been  annulled  by  his  abdication.* 

It  was  impossible  to  make  a  new  settlement  of  the  reve- 
nue without  inquiry  and  deliberation.  The  Exchequer 
was  ordered  to  furnish  such  returns  as  might  enable  the 
House  to  form  estimates  of  the  public  expenditure  and  in- 
come. In  the  meantime,  liberal  provision  was  made  for 
the  immediate  exigencies  of  the  state.  An  extraordinary 
aid,  to  be  raised  by  direct  monthly  assessment,  was  voted 
to  the  King.  An  Act  was  passed  indemnifying  all  who  had, 
since  his  landing,  collected  by  his  authority  the  duties  set- 
tled on  James;  and  those  duties  which  had  expired  were 
continued  for  some  months. 

Along  William's  whole  line  of  march,  from  Torbay  to 
London,  he  had  been  importuned  by  the  common  people 
to  relieve  them  from  the  intolerable  burden  of  the  hearth 
money.  In  truth,  that  tax  seems  to  have  united  all  the 
worst  evils  which  can  be  imputed  to  any  tax.  It  was  un- 
equal, and  unequal  in  the  most  pernicious  way:  for  it 
presse  1  heavily  on  the  poor  and  lightly  on  the  rich.  A 
peasant,  all  whose  property  was  not  worth  twenty  pounds, 
had  to  pay  several  shillings,  while  the  mansion  of  an  oppu- 
lent  nobleman  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  or  St.  James's  Square 
w^as  seldom  assessed  at  two  guineas.  The  collectors  were 
empowered  to  examine  the  interior  of  every  house  in  the 
realm,  to  disturb  families  at  meals,  to  force  the  doors  of 
bedrooms,  and,  if  the  sum  demanded  was  not  punctually 


*  Grey's  Debates,  Feb.  25,  26,  and  27,  1688-9. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


29 


paid,  to  sell  the  trencher  on  which  the  barley  loaf  was  di- 
vided among  the  poor  children,  and  the  pillow  from  under 
the  head  of  the  lying-in  woman.  Nor  could  the  Treasury  ef- 
fectually restrain  the  chimney-man  from  using  his  powers 
with  harshness;  for  the  tax  was  farmed;  and  the  Govern- 
ment was  consequently  forced  to  connive  at  outrages  and 
exactions  such  as  have,  in  every  age,  made  the  name  of 
publican  a  proverb  for  all  that  is  most  hateful. 

William  had  been  so  much  moved  by  what  he  had  heard 
of  these  grievances  that,  at  one  of  the  earliest  sittings  of 
the  Privy  Council,  he  introduced  the  subject.  He  sent  a 
message  requesting  the  House  of  Commons  to  consider 
whether  better  regulations  would  effectually  prevent  the 
abuses  which  had  excited  so  much  discontent.  He  added 
that  he  would  willingly  consent  to  the  entire  abolition  of 
the  tax  if  it  should  appear  that  the  tax  and  the  abuses  were 
inseparable.*  •  This  communication  was  received  with  loud 
applause.  There  were  indeed  some  financiers  of  the  old 
school  who  muttered  that  tenderness  for  the  poor  was  a 
fine  thing,  but  that  no  part  of  the  revenue  of  the  state  came 
in  so  exactly  to  the  day  as  the  hearth  money;  that  the 
goldsmiths  of  the  City  could  not  always  be  induced  to  lend 
on  the  security  of  the  next  quarter's  customs  or  excise,  but 
that  on  an  assignment  of  hearth  money  there  was  no  diffi- 
culty in  obtaining  advances.  In  the  •  House  of  Commons, 
those  who  thought  thus  did  not  venture  to  raise  their  voices 
in  opposition  to  the  general  feeling.  But  in  the  Lords 
there  was  a  conflict  of  which  the  event  for  a  time  seemed 
doubtful.  At  length  the  influence  of  the  Court  strenuously 
exerted,  carried  an  Act  by  which  the  chimney  tax  was  de- 
clared a  badge  of  slavery,  and  was,  with  many  expressions 
of  gratitude  to  the  King,  abolished  forever.f 

The  Commons  granted,  with  little  dispute,  and  without 
a  division,  six  hundred  thousand  pounds  for  the  purpose 
of  repaying  to  the  United  Provinces  the  charges  of  the  ex- 
pedition which  had  delivered  England.  The  facility  with 
which  this  large  sum  was  voted  to  a  shrewd,  diligent,  and 
thrifty  people,  our  allies,  indeed,  politically,  but  commer- 
cially our  most  formidable  rivals,  excited  some  murmurs 
out  of  doors,  and  was,  during  many  years,  a  favorite  sub- 
ject of  sarcasm  with  Tory  pamphleteers.];     The  liberality 


*  Commons'  Journals,  and  Grey's  Debates,  March  i,  1688-9. 
+  I  W.  &  M.  sess.  i.  c.  10;  Burnet,  ii.  13. 

t  Commons'  Journals,  March  15,  1688-9.    So  late  as  1713,  Arbuthnot,  in  the  fifth  part 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


of  the  House  admits  however  of  an  easy  explanation.  On 

the  very  day  on  which  the  subject  was  under  considera- 
tion, alarming  news  arrived  at  Westminster,  and  convinced 
many,  who  would  at  another  time  have  been  (?isposed  to 
scrutinize  severely  any  account  sent  in  by  the  Dutch,  that 
our  country  could  not  yet  dispense  with  the  services  of  the 
foreign  troops. 

France  had  declared  war  against  the  States  General,  and 
the  States  General  had  consequently  demanded  from  the 
King  of  England  those  succors  which  he  was  bound  by  the 
treaty  of  Nimeguen  to  furnish.*  He  had  ordered  some 
battalions  to  march  to  Harwich,  that  they  might  be  in 
readiness  to  cross  to  the  Continent.  The  old  soldiers  of 
James  were  generally  in  a  very  bad  temper,  and  this  order 
did  not  produce  a  soothing  effect.  The  discontent  was 
greatest  in  the  regiment  which  now  ranks  as  the  first  of 
the  line.  Though  borne  on  the  English  establishment,  that 
regiment,  from  the  time  when  it  first  fought  under  the 
great  Gustavus,  had  been  almost  exclusively  composed  of 
Scotchmen;  and  Scotchmen  have  never,  in  any  region  to 
which  their  adventurous  and  aspiring  temper  has  led  them, 
failed  to  note  and  to  resent  every  slight  offered  to  Scotland. 
Officers  and  men  muttered  that  a  vote  of  a  foreign  assem- 
bly was  nothing  to  them.  If  they  could  be  absolved  from 
their  allegiance  to  King  James  the  Seventh,  it  must  be  by 
the  Estates  at  Edinburgh,  and  not  by  the  Convention  at 
Westminster.  Their  ill  humor  increased  when  they  heard 
that  Schomberg  had  been  appointed  their  colonel.  They 
ought  perhaps  to  have  thought  it  an  honor  to  be  oalled  by 
the  name  of  the  greatest  soldier  in  Europe.  But,  brave 
and  skillful  as  he  was,  he  was  not  their  countryman;  and 
their  regiment,  during  the  fifty-six  years  which  had  elapsed 
since  it  gained  its  first  honorable  distinctions  in  Germany, 
had  never  been  commanded  but  by  a  Hepburn  or  a  Doug- 
las. While  they  were  in  this  angry  and  punctilious  mood, 
they  were  ordered  to  join  the  forces  which  were  assem- 
bling at  Harwich.  There  was  much  murmuring;  but 
there  was  no  outbreak  till  the  regiment  arrived  at  Ipswich. 
There  the  signal  of  revolt  was  given  by  two  captains  who 
were  zealous  for  the  exiled  King.  The  market  place  was 
soon  filled  with  pikemen  and  musketeers  running  to  and 
fro.    Gunshots  were  wildly  fired  in  all  directions.  Those 

of  John  Bull,  alluded  tc  this  transaction  with  much  pleasantry.       As  to  your  Venire 
Facias,"  says  John  to  Nick  Frog,    I  have  paid  you  for  one  already." 
♦  Wagenaar,  Ixi. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


31 


officers  who  attempted  to  restrain  the  rioters  were  over- 
powered and  disarmed.  At  length  the  chiefs  of  the  insur- 
rection established  some  order,  and  marched  out  of  Ips- 
wich at  the  head  of  their  adherents.  The  little  army  con- 
sisted of  about  eight  hundred  men.  They  had  seized  four 
pieces  of  cannon,  and  had  taken  possession  of  the  military 
chest,  which  contained  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  At 
the  distance  of  half  a  mile  from  the  town  a  halt  was  called: 
a  general  consultation  was  held;  and  the  mutineers  re- 
solved that  they  would  hasten  back  to  their  native  country, 
and  would  live  and  die  with  their  rightful  King.  They  in- 
stantly proceeded  northward  by  forced  marches.* 

When  the  news  reached  London  the  dismay  was  great. 
It  was  rumored  that  alarming  symptons  had  appeared  in 
other  regiments,  and  particularly  that  a  body  of  fusileers 
which  lay  at  Harwich  was  likely  to  imitate  the  example 
set  at  Ipswich.  If  these  Scots,"  said  Halifax  to  Reresby, 
"  are  unsupported,  they  are  lost.  But  if  they  are  acting  in 
concert  with  others,  the  danger  is  serious  indeed. "f  The 
truth  seems  to  be  that  there  was  a  conspiracy  which  had 
ramifications  in  many  parts  of  the  army,  but  that  the  con- 
spirators were  awed  by  the  firmness  of  the  Government 
and  of  the  Parliament.  A  committee  of  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil was  sitting  when  the  tidings  of  the  mutiny  arrived  in 
London.  William  Harbord,  who  represented  the  borough 
of  Launceston,  was  at  the  board.  His  colleagues  entreated 
him  to  go  down  instantly  to  the  House  of  Commons,  and 
to  relate  what  had  happened.  He  went,  rose  in  his  place, 
and  told  his  story.  The  spirit  of  the  assembly  rose  to  the 
occasion.  Howe  was  the  first  to  call  for  vigorous  action. 
"Address  the  King,"  he  said,  "to  send  his  Dutch  troops 
after  these  men.  I  know  not  who  else  can  be  trusted." 
"  This  is  no  jesting  matter,"  said  old  Birch,  who  had  been 
a  colonel  in  the  service  of  the  Parliament,  and  had  seen 
the  most  powerful  and  renowned  House  of  Commons  that 
ever  sate  twice  purged  and  twice  expelled  by  its  own  sol- 
diers; "if  you  let  this  evil  spread,  you  will  have  an  army 
upon  you  in  a  few  days.  Address  the  King  to  send 
horse  and  foot  instantly,  his  own  .men,  men  whom  he  can 
trust,  and  to  put  these  people  down  at  once."  The  men 
of  the  long  robe  caught  the  flame.  "  It  is  not  the  learning 
of  my  profession  that  is  needed  here,"  said  Treby.  "  What 
is  now  to  be  done  is  to  meet  force  with  force,  and  to  main- 

♦  Commons'  Journals,  March  1^,  1688-9.  f  K^resb^'s  M^R^oirs, 


3« 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


tain  in  the  field  what  we  have  done  in  the  senate/*  "  Write 
to  the  sheriffs/'  said  Colonel  Mildmay,  member  for  Essex. 

Raise  the  militia.  There  are  a  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand of  them:  they  are  good  Englishmen:  they  will  not 
fail  you."  It  was  resolved  that  all  members  of  the  House 
who  held  commissions  in  the  army  should  be  dispensed 
from  parliamentary  attendance,  in  order  that  they  might  ^ 
repair  instantly  to  their  military  posts.  An  address  was 
unanimously  voted  requesting  the  King  to  take  effectual 
steps  for  the  suppression  of  the  rebellion,  and  to  put  forth 
a  proclamation  denouncing  public  vengeance  on  the  rebels. 
One  gentleman  hinted  that  it  might  be  well  to  advise  His 
Majesty  to  offer  a  pardon  to  those  who  should  peaceably 
submit:  but  the  House  wisely  rejected  the  suggestion. 
^^This  is  no  time,"  it  was  well  said,  for  anything  that 
looks  like  fear."  The  address  was  instantly  sent  up  to  the 
Lords.  The  Lords  concurred  in  it.  Two  peers,  two  knights 
of  shires,  and  two  burgesses  were  sent  with  it  to  Court. 
William  received  them  graciously,  and  informed  them  that 
he  had  already  given  the  necessary  orders.  In  fact,  sev- 
eral regiments  of  horse  and  dragoons  had  been  sent  north- 
wards under  the  command  of  Ginkell,  one  of  the  bravest 
and  ablest  officers  of  the  Dutch  army.* 

Meanwhile  the  mutineers  were  hastening  across  the  coun- 
try which  lies  between  Cambridge  and  the  Wash.  Their 
way  lay  through  a  vast  and  desolate  fen,  saturated  with 
the  moisture  of  thirteen  counties,  and  overhung  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  year  by  a  low  grey  mist,  high  above 
which  rose,  visible  many  miles,  the  magnificent  tower  of 
Ely.  In  that  dreary  region,  covered  by  vast  flights  of  wild 
fowl,  a  half  savage  population,  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Breedlings,  then  led  an  amphibious  life,  sometimes  wad- 
ing, and  sometimes  rowing,  from  one  islet  of  firm  ground 
to  another.f  The  roads  were  among  the  worst  in  the 
island,  and  as  soon  as  rumor  announced  the  approach  of 
the  rebels,  were  studiously  made  worse  by  the  country 
people.  Bridges  were  broken  down.  Trees  were  laidf 
across  the  highways  to  obstruct  the  progress  of  the  can« 
non.  Nevertheless  the  Scotch  veterans  not  only  pushed 
forward  with  great  speed,  but  succeeded  in  carrying  their 

*  Commons'  Journals,  and  Grey's  Debates,  March  15,  1688-9;    London  Gazette^ 
March  18. 

t  As  to  the  state  of  this  region  in  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  and  the  earlier 
part  or  the  eighteenth  century,  see  Pepys's  Diary,  Sept.  18,  1663,  and  th^  Tour  throuj^J^ 
ll^e  yr\^o]e  I^lap4  Pi  Qrcf^t  Britain,  ij2^.  - 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


33 


artillery  with  them.  They  entered  Lincolnshire,  and  were 
not  far  from  Sleaford,  when  they  learned  that  Ginkell 
with  an  irresistible  force  was  close  on  their  track.  Victory 
and  escape  were  equally  out  of  the  question.  The  bravest 
warriors  could  not  contend  against  fourfold  odds.  The 
most  active  infantry  could  not  outrun  horsemen.  Yet  the 
leaders,  probably  despairing  of  pardon,  urged  the  men  to 
try  the  chance  of  battle.  In  that  region,  a  spot  almost 
surrounded  by  swamps  and  pools  was  without  difficulty 
found.  Here  the  insurgents  were  drawn  up;  and  the  can- 
non were  planted  at  the  only  point  which  was  thought  not 
to  be  sufficiently  protected  by  natural  defences.  Ginkell 
ordered  the  attack  to  be  made  at  a  place  which  was  out  of 
the  range  of  the  guns;  and  his  dragoons  dashed  gallantly 
into  the  water,  though  it  was  so  deep  that  their  horses 
were  forced  to  swim.  Then  the  mutineers  lost  heart. 
They  beat  a  parley,  surrendered  at  discretion,  and  were 
brought  up  to  London  under  a  strong  guard.  Their  lives 
were  forfeit;  for  they  had  been  guilty,  not  merely  of 
mutiny,  which  was  then  not  a  legal  crime,  but  of  levying 
war  against  the  King.  William,  however,  with  politic 
clemency,  abstained  from  shedding  the  blood  even  of  the 
most  culpable.  A  few  of  the  ringleaders  were  brought  to 
trial  at  the  next  Bury  assizes,  and  were  convicted  of  high 
treason;  but  their  lives  were  spared.  The  rest  were 
merely  ordered  to  return  to  their  duty.  The  regiment, 
lately  so  refractory,  went  submissively  to  the  Continent, 
and  there,  through  many  hard  campaigns,  distinguished 
itself  by  fidelity,  by  discipline,  and  by  valor.* 

This  event  facilitated  an  important  change  in  our  polity, 
a  change  which,  it  is  true,  could  not  have  been  long  de- 
layed, but  which  would  not  have  been  easily  accomplished 
except  at  a  moment  of  extreme  danger.  The  time  had  at 
length  arrived  at  which  it  was  necessary  to  make  a  legal 
distinction  between  the  soldier  and  the  citizen.  Under 
the  Plantagenets  and  the  Tudors  there  had  been  no  stand- 
ing army.  The  standing  army  which  had  existed  under 
the  last  kings  of  the  House  of  Stuart  had  been  regarded 
by  every  party  in  the  state  with  strong  and  not  unreason- 
able aversion.    The  common  law  gave  the  Sovereign  no 

*  London  Gazette,  March  25,  i68q;  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  — ^^^-^^  Let- 

'    April  1, 

ters  of  Nottingham  in  the  State  Paper  Office,  dated  July  23,  and  August  9,  1689;  His- 
torical Record  of  the  first  Regiment  of  Foot,  printed  by  authority.  See  also  a  curious 
digression  in  the  Compleat  Hitory  of  the  Life  and  Military  Actions  of  Richard,  Earl  o| 
Tvrconnei,  1689. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


power  to  control  his  troops.  The  Parliament,  regarding 
them  as  mere  tools  of  tyranny,  had  not  been  disposed  to 
give  such  power  by  statute.  James,  indeed,  had  induced 
his  corrupt  and  servile  judges  to  put  on  some  obsolete 
laws  a  construction  which  enabled  them  to  punish  deser- 
tion capitally.  But  this  construction  was  considered  by 
all  respectable  jurists  as  unsound,  and,  had  it  been  sound, 
would  have  been  far  from  effecting  all  that  was  necessary 
for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  military  discipline.  Even 
James  did  not  venture  to  inflict  death  by  sentence  of  a 
court  martial.  The  deserter  was  treated  as  an  ordinary 
felon,  was  tried  at  the  assizes  by  a  petty  jury  on  a  bill 
found  by  a  grand  jury,  and  was  at  liberty  to  avail  himself 
of  any  technical  flaw  which  might  be  discovered  in  the  in- 
dictment. 

The  Revolution,  by  altering  the  relative  position  of 
the  Sovereign  and  the  Parliament,  had  altered  also  the 
relative  position  of  the  army  and  the  nation.  The 
King  and  the  Commons  were  now  at  unity;  and  both 
were  alike  menaced  by  the  greatest  military  power 
which  had  existed  in  Europe  since  the  downfall  of  the 
Roman  empire.  In  a  few  weeks  thirty  thousand  vet* 
erans,  accustomed  to  conquer,  and  led  by  able  and  ex- 
perienced captains,  might  cross  from  the  ports  of  Normandy 
and  Brittany  to  our  shores.  That  such  a  force  wouia 
with  little  difficulty  scatter  three  times  that  number 
of  militia,  no  man  well  acquainted  with  war  could 
doubt.  There  must,  then^  be  regular  soldiers;  and,  if 
there  were  to  be  regular  soldiers,  it  must  be  indispensable, 
both  to  their  efficiency,  and  to  the  security  of  every  other 
class,  that  they  should  be  kept  under  a  strict  discipline. 
An  ill -disciplined  army  has  ever  been  a  more  costly  and  a 
more  licentious  militia,  impotent  against  a  foreign  enemy, 
and  formidable  only  to  the  country  which  it  is  paid  to  de- 
fend. A  strong  line  of  demarcation  must  therefore  be 
drawn  between  the  soldiers  and  the  rest  of  the  com- 
munity. For  the  sake  of  public  freedom,  they  must,  in 
the  midst  of  freedom,  be  placed  under  a  despotic  rule. 
They  must  be  subject  to  a  sharper  penal  code,  and  to  a 
more  stringent  code  of  procedure,  than  are  administered 
by  the  ordinary  tribunals.  Some  acts  which  in  the  citizen 
are  innocent  must  in  the  soldier  be  crimes.  Some  acts 
which  in  the  citizen  are  punished  with  fine  or  imprison- 
ment must  in  the  soldier  be  punished  with  death.  The 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


35 


machinery  by  which  courts  of  law  ascertain  the  guilt  or 
innocence  of  an  accused  citizen  is  too  slow  and  too  intri- 
cate to  be  applied  to  an  accused  soldier.  For,  of  all  the 
maladies  incident  to  the  body  politic,  military  insubordina- 
tion is  that  which  requires  the  most  prompt  and  drastic 
remedies.  If  the  evil  be  not  stopped  as  soon  as  it  appears, 
it  is  certain  to  spread;  and  it  cannot  spread  far  without 
danger  to  the  very  vitals  of  the  commonwealth.  For  the 
general  safety,  therefore,  a  summary  jurisdiction  of  terri- 
ble extent  must,  in  camps,  be  entrusted  to  rude  tribunals 
composed  of  men  of  the  sword. 

But,  though  it  was  certain  that  the  country  could  not, 
at  that  moment,  be  secure  without  professional  soldiers, 
and  equally  certain  that  professional  soldiers  must  be 
worse  than  useless  unless  they  were  placed  under  a  rule 
more  arbitrary  and  severe  than  that  to  which  other  men 
were  subject,  it  was  not  without  great  misgivings  that  a 
House  of  Commons  could  venture  to  recognize  the  exis- 
tence and  to  make  provision  for  the  government  of  a 
standing  army.  There  was  scarcely  a  public  man  of  note 
who  had  not  often  avowed  his  conviction  that  our  polity 
and  a  standing  army  could  not  exist  together.  The  Whigs 
had  been  in  the  constant  habit  of  repeating  that  standing 
armies  had  destroyed  the  free  institutions  of  the  neighbor- 
ing nations.  The  Tories  had  repeated  as  constantly  that, 
in  our  own  island,  a  standing  army  had  subverted  the 
Church,  oppressed  the  gentry,  and  murdered  the  King. 
No  leader  of  either  party  could,  without  laying  himself 
open  to  the  charge  of  gross  inconsistency,  propose  that 
such  an  army  should  henceforth  be  one  of  the  permanent 
establishments  of  the  realm.  The  mutiny  at  Ipswich, 
and  the  panic  which  that  mutiny  produced,  made  the  first 
step  in  the  right  direction  easy;  and  by  that  step  the 
whole  course  of  our  subsequent  legislation  was  deter- 
mined. A  short  bill  was  brought  in  which  began  by 
declaring,  in  explicit  terms,  that  standing  armies  and 
courts  martial  were  unknown  to  the  law  of  England.  It 
was  then  enacted  that,  on  account  of  the  extreme  perils 
impending  at  that  moment  over  the  state,  no  man  mus- 
tered on  pay  in  the  service  of  the  Crown  should,  on  pain 
of  death,  or  of  such  lighter  punishment  as  a  court  martial 
should  deem  sufficient,  desert  his  colors  or  mutiny  against 
liis  commanding  officers.  This  statute  was  to  be  in  force 
oily  six   months;  and  many  of  those  who  voted  for  it 


36 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


probably  believed  that  it  would,  at  the  close  of  that  period, 
be  suffered  to  expire.  The  bill  passed  rapidly  and  easily. 
Not  a  single  division  was  taken  upon  it  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  A  mitigating  clause,  indeed,  which  illustrates 
somewhat  curiously  the  manners  of  that  age, was  added  by 
way  of  rider  after  the  third  reading.  This  clause  provided 
that  no  court  martial  should  pass  sentence  of  death  except 
between  the  hours  of  six  in  the  morning  and  one  in  the 
afternoon.  The  dinner  hour  was  then  early;  audit  was 
but  too  probable  that  a  gentleman  who  had  dined  would 
be  in  a  state  in  which  he  could  not  safely  be  trusted  with 
the  lives  of  his  fellow  creatures.  With  this  amendment, 
the  fir^t  and  most  concise  of  our  many  Mutiny  Bills  was 
sent  up  to  the  Lords;  and  was,  in  a  few  hours,  hurried  by 
them  through  all  its  stages  and  passed  by  the  King."^ 

Thus  began,  without  one  dissentient  voice  in  Parliament, 
without  one  murmur  in  the  nation,  a  change  which  had 
become  necessary  to  the  safety  of  the  state,  yet  which 
every  party  in  the  state  then  regarded  with  extreme  dread 
and  aversion.  Six  months  passed;  and  still  the  public 
danger  continued.  The  power  necessary  to  the  mainte- 
nance of  military  discipline  was  a  second  time  entrusted 
to  the  Crown  for  a  short  term.  The  trust  again  expired, 
and  was  again  renewed.  By  slow  degrees  familiarity 
reconciled  the  public  mind  to  the  names,  once  so  odious, 
of  standing  army  and  court  martial.  It  was  proved  by 
experience  that,  in  a  well  constituted  society,  professional 
soldiers  may  be  terrible  to  a  foreign  enemy,  and  yet  sub- 
missive to  the  civil  power.  What  had  been  at  first  toler- 
ated as  the  exception  began  to  be  considered  as  the  rule. 
Not  a  session  passed  without  a  Mutiny  Bill.  During  two 
generations,  indeed,  an  annual  clamor  against  the  new 
system  was  raised  by  some  factious  men  desirous  to  weak- 
en the  hands  of  the  government,  and  by  some  respectable 
men  who  felt  an  honest  but  injudicious  reverence  for  every 
old  constitutional  tradition,  and  who  were  unable  to  un- 
derstand that  what  at  one  stage  in  the  progress  of  society 
is  pernicious  may,  at  another  stage,  be  indispensable.  But 
this  clamor,  as  years  rolled  on,  became  fainter  and  fainter. 
The  debate  which  recurred  every  spring  on  the  Mutiny 
Bill  came  to  be  regarded  merely  as  an  occasion  on  which 
hopeful  young  orators,  fresh  from  Christchurch,  were  to 
deliver  maiden  speeches,  setting  forth  how  the  guards  of 

♦  Stat.  I  W.  &  M.  aefis.  x.  c.  5;  Commons'  Journals,  March  a8, 1689. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY, 


37 


Pisistratus  seized  the  citadel  of  Athens,  and  how  the  Prae- 
torian cohorts  sold  the  Roman  empire  to  Didius.  At 
length  these  declamations  became  too  ridiculous  to  be 
repeated.  The  most  old-fashioned,  the  most  eccentric 
politician  could  hardly,  in  the  reign  of  George  the  Third, 
contend  that  there  ought  to  be  no  regular  soldiers,  or  that 
the  ordinary  law,  administered  by  the  ordinary  courts,  would 
effectually  maintain  discipline  among  such  soldiers.  All 
parties  being  agreed  as  to  the  general  principle,  a  long  suc- 
cession of  Mutiny  Bills  passed  without  any  discussion,  ex- 
cept when  some  particular  article  of  the  military  code  ap- 
peared to  require  amendment.  It  is  perhaps  because  the 
army  became  thus  gradually,  and  almost  imperceptibly,  one 
of  the  institutions  of  England,  that  it  has  acted  in  such  per- 
fect harmony  with  all  her  other  institutions,  has  never  once 
during  a  hundred  and  sixty  years,  been  untrue  to  the 
throne,  or  disobedient  to  the  law,  has  never  once  defied  the 
tribunals  or  overawed  the  constituent  bodies.  To  this  day, 
however,  the  Estates  of  the  Realm  continue  to  set  up 
periodically,  with  laudable  jealousy,  a  landmark  on  the 
frontier  which  was  traced  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution. 
They  solemnly  reassert  every  year  the  doctrine  laid  down 
in  the  Declaration  of  Rights;  and  they  then  grant  to  the 
Sovereign  an  extraordinary  power  to  govern  a  certain 
number  of  soldiers  according  to  certain  rules  during 
twelve  months  more. 

.  In  the  same  week  in  which  the  first  Mutiny  Bill  was  laid 
on  the  table  of  the  Commons,  another  temporary  law, 
made  necessary  by  the  unsettled  state  of  the  kingdom, 
was  passed.  Since  the  flight  of  James  many  persons  who 
were  believed  to  have  been  deeply  implicated  in  his  unlaw- 
ful acts,  or  to  be  engaged  in  plots  for  his  restoration,  had 
been  arrested  and  confined.  During  the  vacancy  of  the 
throne,  these  men  could  derive  no  benefit  from  the  Habeas 
Corpus  Act.  For  the  machinery  by  which  alone  that  Act 
could  be  carried  into  execution  had  ceased  to  exist;  and, 
through  the  whole  of  Hilary  term,  all  the  courts  in  West- 
minister Hall  had  remained  closed.  Now  that  the  ordi- 
nary tribunals  were  about  to  resume  their  functions,  it  was 
apprehended  that  those  prisoners  whom  it  was  not  con- 
venient to  bring  instantly  to  trial  would  demand  and  obtain 
their  liberty.  A  bill  was  therefore  brought  in  which 
empowered  the  King  to  detain  in  custody  during  a  few 
weeks  such  persons  as  he  should  suspect  of  evil  designs 


38  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

against  his  government.  This  bill  passed  th^  two  Houses 
with  little  or  no  opposition.*  But  the  malcontents  out  of 
doors  did  not  fail  to  remark  that,  in  the  late  reign,  the 
Habeas  Corpus  Act  had  not  been  one  day  suspended.  It 
was  the  fashion  to  call  James  a  tyrant,  and  William  a  deliv- 
erer. Yet,  before  the  deliverer  had  been  a  month  on  the 
throne,  he  had  deprived  Englishmen  of  a  precious  right 
which  the  tyrant  had  respected. f  This  is  a  kind  of  re- 
proach which  a  government  sprung  from  a  popular  revolu- 
tion almost  inevitably  incurs.  From  such  a  government 
men  naturally  think  themselves  entitled  to  demand  a  more 
gentle  and  liberal  administration  than  is  expected  from  old 
and  de#ply  rooted  power.  Yet  such  a  government,  havings 
as  it  always  has,  many  active  enemies,  and  not  having  the 
strength  derived  from  legitimacy  and  prescription,  can  at 
first  maintain  itself  only  by  a  vigilance  and  a  severity  of 
which  old  and  deeply  rooted  power  stands  in  no  need. 
Extraordinary  and  irregular  vindications  of  public  liberty 
are  sometimes  necessary:  yet,  how^ever  necessary,  they  are 
almost  always  followed  by  some  temporary  abridgments  of 
that  very  liberty;  and  every  such  abridgment  is  a  fertile  and 
plausible  theme  for  sarcasm  and  invective. 

Unhappily  sarcasm  and  invective  directed  against  Wil- 
liam were  but  too  likely  to  find  favorable  audience.  Each  of 
the  two  great  parties  had  its  own  reasons  for  being  dissatis- 
fied with  him;  and  there  were  some  complaints  in  which  both 
parties  joined.  His  manners  gave  almost  universal  offence. 
He  was  in  truth  far  better  qualified  to  save  a  nation  than 
to  adorn  a  court.  In  the  highest  parts  of  statesmanship, 
he  had  no  equal  among  his  contemporaries.  He  had 
formed  plans  not  inferior  in  grandeur  and  boldness  to 
those  of  Richelieu,  and  had  carried  them  into  effect  with 
a  tact  and  wariness  worthy  of  Mazarin.  Two  countries, 
the  seats  of  civil  liberty  and  of  the  Reformed  Faith,  had 
been  preserved  by  his  wisdom  and  courage  from  extreme 
perils.  Holland  he  had  delivered  from  foreign,  and  Eng- 
land from  domestic  foes.  Obstacles  apparently  insur- 
mountable had  been  interposed  between  him  and  the  ends 
on  which  he  was  intent;  and  those  obstacles  his  genius  had 
turned  into  stepping  stones.  Under  his  dexterous  m>anage- 
ment  the  hereditary  enemies  of  his  house  had  helped  him 
to  mount  a  throne;  and  the  persecutors  of  his  religion  had 
helped  him  to  rescue  his  religion  from  persecution.  Fleets 

♦  Stat.  X  W.  &  M.  scss.  i.  c.  «.  t  Ronquillo,  March  8-x8, 1689. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


39 


and  armies,  collected  to  withstand  him,  had,  without  a 
struggle,  submitted  to  his  orders*  Factions  and  sects,  di- 
vided by  mortal  antipathies,  had  recognized  him  as  their 
common  head.  Without  carnage,  without  devastation,  he 
had  won  a  victory  compared  with  which  all  the  victories 
of  Gustavus  and  Turenne  were  insignificant.  In  a  few 
weeks  he  had  changed  the  relative  position  of  all  the  states 
in  Europe,  and  had  restored  the  equilibrium  which  the 
preponderance  of  one  power  had  destroyed.  Foreign  na- 
tions did  ample  justice  to  his  great  qualities.  In  every 
Continental  country  where  Protestant  congregations  met, 
fervent  thanks  were  offered  to  God,  who,  from  among  the 
progeny  of  His  servants,  Maurice,  the  deliverer  of  Ger- 
many, and  William,  the  deliverer  of  Holland,  had 
raised  up  a  third  deliverer,  the  wisest  and  mightiest  of 
all.  At  Vienna,  at  Madrid,  nay,  at  Rome,  the  valiant  and 
sagacious  heretic  was  held  in  honor  as  the  chief  of  the 
great  confederacy  against  the  House  of  Bourbon;  and  even 
at  Versailles  the  hatred  which  he  inspired  was  largely 
mingled  with  admiration. 

Here  he  was  less  favorably  judged.  In  truth,  our  ances- 
tors saw  him  in  the  worst  of  all  lights.  By  the  French,  the 
Germans,  and  the  Italians,  he  was  contemplated  at  such  a 
distance  that  only  what  was  great  could  be  discerned,  and 
that  small  blemishes  were  invisible.  To  the  Dutch  he  was 
brought  close:  but  he  was  himself  a  Dutchman.  In  his 
intercourse  with  them  he  was  seen  to  the  best  advantage: 
he  was  perfectly  at  his  ease  with  them;  and  from  among 
them  he  had  chosen  his  earliest  and  dearest  friends.  But  to 
the  English  he  appeared  in  a  most  unfortunate  point  of 
view.  He  was  at  once  too  near  to  them  and  too  far  from 
them.  He  lived  among  them,  so  that  the  smallest  pecu- 
liarity of  temper  or  manner  could  not  escape  their  notice 
Yet  he  lived  apart  from  them,  and  was  to  the  last  a  for- 
eigner in  speech,  tastes,  and  habits. 

One  of  the  chief  functions  of  our  Sovereigns  had  long 
been  to  preside  over  the  society  of  the  capital.  That  func- 
tion Charles  the  Second  had  performed  with  immense  suc- 
cess. His  easy  bow,  his  good  stories,  his  style  of  dancing 
and  playing  tennis,  the  sound  of  his  cordial  laugh,  were 
familiar  to  all  London.  One  day  he  was  seen  among  the 
elms  of  Saint  James's  Park  chatting  with  Dryden  about 
poetry.*    Another  day  his  arm  was  on  Tom  Durfey's 


♦  Sec  the  account  given  in  Spence's  Anecdotes  of  the  Origin  of  Dryden's  Medal, 


40 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


shoulder;  and  His  Majesty  was  taking  a  second,  while  his, 
companion  sang  Phillida,  Phillida,"  or  "  To  horse,  brav/ 
boys,  to  Newmarket,  to  horse."*^  James,  with  much  le^ 
vivacity  and  good  nature,  was  accessible,  and,  to  people 
who  did  not  cross  him,  civil.  But  of  this  sociableness 
William  was  entirely  destitute.  He  seldom  came  forth 
from  his  closet;  and  when  he  appeared  in  the  public  rooms, 
he  stood  among  the  crowd  of  courtiers  and  ladies,  stern 
and  abstracted,  making  no  jest  and  smiling  at  none.  His 
freezing  look,  his  silence,  the  dry  and  concise  answers 
which  he  uttered  when  he  could  keep  silence  no  longer,  dis- 
gusted noblemen  and  gentlemen  who  had  been  accustomed 
to  be  slapped  on  the  back  by  their  royal  masters,  called 
Jack  or  Harry,  congratulated  about  race  cups  or  rallied 
about  actresses.  The  women  missed  the  homage  due  to 
their  sex.  They  observed  that  the  King  spoke  in  a  some- 
what imperious  tone  even  to  the  wife  to  whom  he  owed  so 
much,  and  whom  he  sincerely  loved  and  esteemed. f  They 
were  amused  and  shocked  to  see  him,  when  the  Princess 
Anne  dined  with  him,  and  when  the  first  green  peas  of  the 
year  were  put  on  the  table,  devour  the  whole  dish  without 
offering  a  spoonful  to  Her  Royal  Highness:  'and  they  pro- 
nounced that  this  great  soldier  and  politician  was  no  bet- 
ter than  a  Low  Dutch  bear.J 

One  misfortune,  which  was  imputed  to  him  as  a  crime, 
was  his  bad  English.  He  spoke  our  language,  but  not 
well.  His  accent  was  foreign;  his  diction  was  inelegant; 
and  his  vocabulary  seems  to  have  been  no  larger  than  was 
necessary  for  the  transaction  of  business.  To  the  diffi- 
culty which  he  felt  in  expressing  himself,  and  to  his  con- 
sciousness that  his  pronuciation  was  bad,  must  be  partly 
ascribed  the  taciturnity  and  the  short  answers  which  gave 
so  much  offence.  Our  literature  he  was  incapable  of  en- 
joying  or  of  understanding.     He  never  once,  during  his 

*  Guardian,  No.  67. 

t  There  is  abundant  proof  that  William,  though  a  very  affectionate,  was  not  always  a 
polite  husband.  But  no  credit  is  due  to  the  story  contained  m  the  letter  which  Dal- 
rymple  was  foolish  enough  to  publish  as  Nottingham's  in  1773,  and  wise  enough  to  omit 
in  the  edition  of  1790.  How  any  person  who  knew  anything  of  the  hi»tory  of  those 
times  could  be  so  strangely  deceived,  it  is  not  easy  to  understand,  particularly  as  the 
handwriting  bears  no  resemblance  to  Nottingham's,  with  which  Dalrymple  was  famil- 
iar. The  letter  is  evidently  a  common  newsletter,  written  by  a  scribbler,  who  had 
never  seen  the  King  and  Queen  except  at  some  public  place,  and  whose  anecdotes  of 
their  private  life  rested  on  no  better  authority  than  coffee-house  gossip. 

t  Ronquillo;  Burnet,  ii.  2;  Duchess  of  Marlborough's  Vindicatiori.  In  a  pastoral  dia- 
logue between  Philander  and  Palsemon,  published  in  1691,  the  dislike  with  which  wo- 
men of  fashion  regarded  William  is  mentioned.    Philander  says:— 

"  But  man  methinks  his  reason  should  recall, 
Nor  let  frail  woman  work  his  second  fall," 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


whole  reign,  showed  himself  at  the  theater/'  The  poets 
who  wrote  Pindaric  verses  in  his  praise,  complained  that 
their  flights  of  sublimity  were  beyond  his  comprehension. f 
Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  panegyrical  odes  of 
that  age  will  perhaps  be  of  opinion  that  he  did  not  lose 
much  by  his  ignorance. 

It  is  true  that  his  wife  did  her  best  to  supply  what  was 
wanting,  and  that  she  was  excellently  well  qualified  to  be 
the  head  of  the  Court.  She  was  English  by  birth,  and 
English  also  in  her  tastes  and  feelings.  Her  face  was 
handsome,  her  port  majestic,  her  temper  sweet  and  lively, 
her  manners  affable  and  graceful.  Her  understanding, 
though  very  imperfectly  cultivated,  was  quick.  There 
was  no  want  of  feminine  wit  and  shrewdness  in  her  con- 
versation; and  her  letters  were  so  well  expressed  that  they 
deserved  to  be  well  spelt.  She  took  much  pleasure  in  the 
lighter  kinds  of  literature,  and  did  something  towards 
bringing  books  into  fashion  among  ladies  of  quality.  The 
stainless  purity  of  her  private  life  and  the  strict  attention 
which  she  paid  to  her  religious  duties  were  the  more  res- 
pectable, because  she  was  singularly  free  from  censorious- 
ness,  and  discouraged  scandal  as  much  as  vice.  In  dislike 
of  backbiting  indeed  she  and  her  husband  cordially  agreed: 
but  they  showed  that  dislike  in  different  and  in  very  char- 
acteristic ways.  William  preserved  profound  silence,  and 
gave  the  talebearer  a  look,  which,  as  was  said  by  a  person 
who  had  once  encountered  it,  and  who  took  good  care 
never  to  encounter  it  again,  made  your  story  go  back  down 
your  throat. J  Mary  had  a  way  of  interrupting  tattle 
about  elopements,  duels,  and  play-debts,  by  asking  the 
tattlers,  very  quietly  yet  significantly,  whether  they  had 
ever  read  her  favorite  sermon.  Dr.  Tillotson's  on  Evil 
Speaking.    Her  charities  were  munificent  and  judicious; 

*  Tuchin's  Observator  of  November  i6,  1706. 

t  Prior,  who  was  treated  by  William  with  much  kindness,  and  who  was  very  grateful 
for  it,  informs  us  that  the  King  did  not  understand  poetical  eulogy.  The  passage  is  in 
a  highly  curious  manuscript,  the  property  of  Lord  Lansdowne. 

t  M6moires  Originaux  sur  le  Regne  et  la  Cour  de  Frederic  I.,  Roi  de  Prusse,  ccrits 
par  Christophe  Comte  de  Dohna.  Berlin,  1833.  It  is  strange  that  this  interesting  vol- 
ume should  be  almost  unknown  in  England.  The  only  copy  that  I  have  ever  seen  of 
it  was  kindly  given  to  me  by  Sir  Robert  Adair.  "  Le  Roi,"  Dohna  says,  avoit 
une  autre  qualite  tr^s  estimable^  qui  est  celle  de  n'aimer  point  qu'on  rendit  de  mauvais 
offices  k  personne  par  des  railleries."  The  Marquis  de  la  Foret  tried  to  entertain  His 
Majesty  at  the  expense  of  an  English  nobleman.  Ce  prince,"  says  Dohna,  "  prit  son 
air  severe,  et,  le  regardant  sans  mot  dire,  lui  fit  rentrer  les  paroles  dans  le  ventre.  Le 
Marquis  m'en  fit  ses  plaintes  quelques  heures  apres.  '  J'ai  mal  pris  ma  bisque,'  dit-il; 
'  j'ai  cru  faire  I'agreable  sur  le  chapitre  de  Milord.  .  .  raais  j'ai  tr<5uve  a  qui  parler^ 
et  j'ai  attrap6  un  regard  du  roi  qui  m'a  fait  passer  I'envie  de  rire.'  "  Dohna  supposed 
that  William  might  be  less  sensitive  about  the  character  of  a  Frenchman,  and  tried 
the  ezperitzieAt,   But,  says  he,    J'eus  k  peu  pr^s  le  m^me  sort  ^ue  M.  de  la  For^U** 


HiStORY   O'F  ENGLAND. 


and,  though  she  made  no  ostentatious  display  of  them, 
it  was  known  that  she  retrenched  from  her  own  state 
order  to  relieve  Protestants  whom  persecution  had  driven 
from  France  and  Ireland,  and  who  were  starving  in  the 
garrets  of  London.  So  amiable  was  her  conduct,  that  she 
was  generally  spoken  of  with  esteem  and  tenderness  by 
the  most  respectable  of  those  who  disapproved  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  she  had  been  raised  to  the  throne,  and  even 
of  those  who  refused  to  acknowledge  her  as  Queen.  In 
the  Jacobite  lampoons  of  that  time,  lampoons  which,  in 
virulence  and  malignity,  far  exceed  anything  that  our  age 
has  produced,  she  was  not  often  mentioned  with  severity. 
Indeed  she  sometimes  expressed  her  surprise  at  finding 
that  libellers  who  respected  nothing  else  respected  her 
name.  God,  she  said,  knew  where  her  weakness  lay.  She 
was  too  sensitive  to  abuse  and  calumny:  He  had  merci- 
fully spared  her  a  trial  which  was  beyond  her  strength; 
jtnd  the  best  return  which  she  could  make  to  Him  was  to 
discountenance  all  malicious  reflections  on  the  characters 
of  others.  Assurred  that  she  possessed  her  husband's  en- 
tire confidence  and  affection,  she  turned  the  edge  of  hii 
sharp  speeches  sometimes  by  soft  and  sometimes  by  play- 
ful answers,  and  employed  all  the  influence  which  she  de- 
rived from  her  many  pleasing  qualities  to  gain  the  hearts 
of  the  people  for  him."* 

If  she  had  long  continued  to  assemble  round  her  the  best 
society  of  London,  it  is  probable  that  her  kindness  and 
courtesy  would  have  done  much  to  efface  the  unfavorable 
impression  made  by  his  stern  and  frigid  demeanor.  Un- 
happily his  physical  infirmities  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  reside  at  Whitehall.    The  air  of  Westminster,  mingled 

*  Compare  the  account  of  Mary  by  the  Whig  Burnet  with  the  mention  of  her  by  the 
Tory  Evelyn  in  his  Diary,  March  8,  1694-5,  and  with  what  is  said  of  her  by  the  Nonjuror 
who  wrote  the  Letter  to  Archbishop  Tenison  on  her  death  in  1695.  The  impression 
which  the  bluntness  and  reserve  of  William  and  the  grace  and  gentleness  of  Mary  had 
made  on  the  populace  may  be  traced  in  the  remains  of  the  street  poetry  of  that  time. 
The  following  conjugal  dialogue  may  still  be  seen  on  the  original  broadside: 

Then  bespoke  Mary,  our  most  royal  Queen, 

'  My  gracious  King  William  where  are  you  going?' 

He  answered  her  quickly,  '  I  count  him  no  man 

That  telleth  his  secret  unto  a  woman.' 

The  Queen  with  a  modest  behaviour  replied, 

*  I  wish  that  kind  Providence  may  be  thy  guide, 

To  keep  thee  from  danger,  my  sovereign  Lord, 

The  which  will  the  greatest  of  comfort  afford.'  " 

These  lines  are  in  an  excellent  collection  formed  by  Mr.  Richard  Heber,  and  now  the 
roperty  of  Mr.  Broderip,  by  whom  it  was  kindly  lent  to  me.  In  one  of  the  mott  savage 
acobite  pasquinades  of  1689,  William  is  described  as 

A  chuiiie  to  his  wife  which  she  makes  but  a  jest." 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


43 


With  the  fog  of  the  river,  which  in  spring  tides  overflowed 
the  courts  of  his  palace,  with  the  smoke  of  seacoal  from 
two  hundred  thousand  chimneys,  and  with  the  fumes  of  all 
the  filth  which  was  then  suffered  to  accumulate  in  the 
streets,  was  insupportable  to  him;  for  his  lungs  were  weak, 
and  his  sense  of  smell  exquisitely  keen.  His  constitutional 
asthma  made  rapid  progress.  His  physicians  pronounced 
it  impossible  that  he  could  live  to  the  end  of  the  year.  His 
face  was  so  ghastly  that  he  could  hardly  be  recognized. 
Those  who  had  to  transact  business  with  him  were  shocked 
to  hear  him  gasping  for  breath,  and  coughing  till  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks.*  His  mind,  strong  as  it  was,  sympa- 
thized with  his  body.  His  judgment  was  indeed  as  clear 
as  ever.  But  there  was,  during  some  months,  a  percepti- 
ble relaxation  of  that  energy  by  which  he  had  been  dis- 
tinguished. Even  his  Dutch  friends  whispered  that  he  was 
not  the  man  that  he  had  been  at  the  Hague.f  It  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  he  should  quit  London.  He  accord- 
ingly took  up  his  residence  in  the  purer  air  of  Hampton 
Court.  That  mansion,  begun  by  the  magnificent  Wolsey, 
was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  architecture  which  flourished  in 
England  under  the  first  Tudors:  but  the  apartments  were 
not,  according  to  the  notions  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
well  fitted  for  purposes  of  state.  Our  princes  therefore 
had,  since  the  Restoration,  repaired  thither  seldom,  and 
only  when  they  wished  to  live  for  a  time  in  retirement.  As 
William  proposed  to  make  the  deserted  edifice  his  chief 
palace,  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  build  and  to  plant;  nor 
was  the  necessity  disagreeable  to  him.  For  he  had,  like 
most  of  his  countrymen,  a  pleasure  in  decorating  a  country 
house;  and  next  to  hunting,  though  at  a  great  interval,  his 
favorite  amusements  were  architecture  and  gardening. 
He  had  already  created  on  a  sandy  heath  in  Guelders  a 
paradise,  which  attracted  multitudes  of  the  curious  from 
Holland  and  Westphalia.  Mary  had  laid  the  first  stone  of 
the  house.  Bentinck  had  superintended  the  digging  of 
the  fishponds.  There  were  cascades  and  grottoes,  a  spa- 
cious orangery,  and  an  aviary  which  furnished  Honde- 

*  Burnet,  ii.  2*  Burnet,  MS.  Harl,  6584.  But  Ronquillo's  account  is  much  more  cir- 
cumstantial. *^Nada  se  ha  visto  mas  desfigurado;  y,  quantas  veces  he  estado  con  el,  le  he 
visto  toser  tanto  que  se  le  saltaban  las  lagrimas,  y  se  ponia  moxado  y  arrancando;  y  con- 
fiesan  los  medicos  que  es  una  asma  incurable."  Mar.  8-18,  1689,  Avaux  wrote  to  the 
same  effect  from  Ireland.  La  sant6  de  I'usurpateur  est  fort  mauvaise.  L'on  ne  croit 
pas  qu'il  vive  un  an."    April  8-18. 

t  "Hasta  decir  los  mismos  Hollandeses  que  lo  desconozcan,"  says  Ronauillo.  **  II  est 
;  absolument  mal  propre  pour  le  r61e  qu'il  a  k  jouer  a  I'heure  qu'il  est,    says  Ayaux* 

Slothful  and  sickly,"  says  Evelyn,  March  29,  1689. 


44 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


koeter  with  numerous  specimens  of  many  colored  plumage.* 
The  King,  in  his  splendid  banishment,  pined  for  this  favor- 
ite seat,  and  found  some  consolation  in  creating  another 
Loo  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.  Soon  a  wide  extent  of 
ground  was  laid  o[ut  in  formal  walks  and  parterres.  Much 
idle  ingenuity  was  employed  in  forming  that  intricate  laby- 
rinth of  verdure  which  has  puzzled  and  amused  five  gen- 
erations of  holiday  visitors  from  London.  Limes  thirty 
years  old  were  transplanted  from  neighboring  woods  to 
shade  the  alleys.  Artificial  fountains  spouted  among  the 
flower-beds.  A  new  court,  not  designed  with  the  purest 
taste,  but  stately,  spacious,  and  commodious,  rose  under 
the  direction  of  Wren.  The  wainscots  were  adorned  with 
the  rich  and  delicate  carvings  of  Gibbons.  The  staircases 
were  in  a  blaze  with  the  glaring  frescoes  of  Verrio.  In 
every  corner  of  the  mansion  appeared  a  profusion  of  gew- 
gaws, not  yet  familiar  to  English  eyes.  Mary  had  acquired 
at  the  Hague  a  taste  for  the  porcelain  of  China,  and  amused 
herself  by  forming  at  Hampton  a  vast  collection  of  hid- 
ous  images,  and  of  vases  on  which  houses,  trees,  bridges, 
and  mandarins,  were  depicted  in  outrageous  defiance  of  all 
the  laws  of  perspective.  The  fashion,  a  frivolous  and  inele- 
gant fashion  it  must  be  owned,  which  was  thus  set  by  the 
amiable  Queen,  spread  fast  and  wide.  In  a  few  years 
almost  every  great  house  in  the  kingdom  contained  a  mu- 
seum of  these  grotesque  baubles.  Even  statesmen  and 
generals  were  not  ashamed  to  be  renowned  as  judges  of  tea- 
pots and  dragons;  and  satirists  long  continued  to  repeat 
that  a  fine  lady  valued  her  mottled  green  pottery  quite  as 
much  as  she  valued  'her  monkey,  and  much  more  than  she 
valued  her  husband,  f 

But  the  new  palace  was  embellished  with  works  of  art  of 
a  very  different  kind.  A  gallery  was  erected  for  the  car- 
toons of  Raphael.  Those  great  pictures,  then  and  still  the 
finest  on  our  side  of  the  Alps,  had  been  preserved  by 
Cromwell  from  the  fate  which  befell  most  of  the  other  i 
masterpieces  in  the  collection  of  Charles  the  First,  but  had 
been  suffered  to  lie  during  many  years  nailed  up  in  deal 
boxes.  Peter,  raising  the  cripple  at  the  Beautiful  Gate, 
and  Paul  proclaiming  the  Unknown  God  to  the  philoso- 

♦  See  Harris's  description  of  Loo,  1699. 

t  Every  person  who  is  well  acquainted  with  Pope  and  Addison  will  remember  their 
sarcasms  on  this  taste.  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague  took  the  other  side.  "  Old 
China,"  she  says,  "is  below  nobody's  taste,  since  it  has  been  the  Duke  of  Argyle's* 
whose  u&derst&oding  has  never  been  doubted  either  by  his  friends  or  caemiesk'* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY, 


45 


phers  of  Athens,  were  now  brought  forth  from  obscurity 
to  be  contemplated  by  artists  with  admiration  and  despair. 
The  expense  of  the  works  at  Hampton  was  the  subject  of 
bitter   complaint  to  many  Tories,  who  had  very  gently 
blamed  the  boundless  profusion  with  which  Charles  the 
Second  had  built  and  rebuilt,  furnished  and  refurnished, 
the  dwelling  of  the  Duchess  of  Portsmouth.*     The  ex- 
pense, however,  was  not  the  chief  cause  of  the  discontent 
which  William's  change  of  residence  excited.    There  was 
no  longer  a  Court  at  Westminster.    Whitehall,  once  the 
daily  resort  of  the  noble  and  the  powerful,  the  beautiful 
and  the  gay,  the  place  to  which  fops  came  to  show  their 
new  peruques,  men  of  gallantry  to  exchange  glances  with 
fine  ladies;  politicians  to  push  their  fortunes,  loungers  to 
hear  the  news,  country  gentlemen  to  see  the  royal  family, 
was  now,  in  the  busiest  season  of  the  year,  when  London 
was  full,  when  Parliament  was  sitting,  left  desolate.  A 
solitary  sentinel  paced  the  grass-grown  pavement  before 
that  door  which  had  once  been  too  narrow  for  the  oppo- 
site streams  of  entering  and  departing  courtiers.    The  ser- 
vices which  the  metropolis  had  rendered  to  the  King  were 
great  and  recent;  and  it  was  thought  that  he  might  have 
requited  those  services  better  than  by  treating  it  as  Lewis 
had  treated  Paris.    Halifax  ventured  to  hint  this,  but  was 
silenced  by  a  few  words  which  admitted  of  no  reply. 
"  Do  you  wish,"  said  William  peevishly,  "  to  see  me  dead  ? "  f 
In  a  short  time  it  was  found  that  Hampton  Court  was 
too  far  from  the  Houses  of  Lords  and  Commons,  and  from 
the  public  offices,  to  be  the  ordinary  abode  of  the  Sover- 
eign.     Instead,  however,  of  returning  to  Whitehall,  Wil- 
liam determined  to  have  another  dwelling,  near  enough  to 
his  capital  for  the  transaction  of  business,  but  not  near 
enough  to  be  within  that  atmosphere  in  which  he  could 
not  pass  a  night  without  risk  of  suffocation.    At  one  time 
he  thought  of  Holland  House,J  the  villa  of  the  noble  family 

*  As  to  the  works  at  Hampton  Court  see  Evelyn's  Diary,  July  16,  1689;  the  Tour 
through  Great  Britain,  1724;  the  British  Apelles;  Horace  Walpole  on  Modern  Garden- 
ing-Burnet  ii.  2,  3. 

When  Evelyn  was  at  Hampton  Court,  in  1662,  the  cartoons  were  not  to  be  seen.  The 
triumphs  of  Andra  Mantegna  were  then  supposed  to  be  the  finest  pictures  in  the  palace, 

t  Burnet,  ii.  2;  Reresby's  Memoirs.  Ronquillo  wrote  repeatedly  to  the  same  effect. 
For  example:  "  Bien  quisiera  que  el  Rey  fuese  mas  comunicable,  y  se  acomodase  ua 
poco  mas  al  humor  sociable  de  los  Ingleses,  y  que  estubiera  en  Londres:  pero  cs  cierto 
que  sus  achaques  no  se  lo  permiten."  July  8-18,  1689.  Avaux,  about  the  game  time, 
wrote  tfer4s  to  Croissy  from  Ireland:  "  Le  Prince  d  Orange  est  tou jours  k  Hampton 
Court,  et  jamais  a  la  ville;  et  le  peuple  est  fort  mal  satisfait  d^  cette  maniire  bijarre  et 
retirte," 

t  Several  of  his  letters  to  Heinsius  are  dated  from  Holland  House. 


46 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


of  Rich;  and  he  actually  resided  there  some  weeks.  But 
he  at  length  fixed  his  choice  on  Kensington  House,  the 
suburban  residence  of  the  Earl  of  Nottingham.  The  pur- 
chase was  made  for  eighteen  thousand  guineas,  and  was 
followed  by  more  building,  more  planting,  more  expense, 
and  more  discontent.*  At  present  Kensington  House  is 
considered  as  a  part  of  London.  It  was  then  a  rural  man- 
sion, and  could  not,  in  those  days  of  highwaymen  and 
scourers,  of  roads  deep  in  mire  and  nights  without  lamps, 
be  the  rallying  point  of  fashionable  society.  .  It  was  well 
known  that  the  King,  who  treated  the  English  nobility 
and  gentry  so  ungraciously,  could,  in  a  small  circle  of  his 
own  countrymen,  be  easy,  friendly,  even  jovial,  could  pour 
out  his  feelings  garrulously,  could  fill  his  glass,  perhaps 
too  often ;  and  this  was,  in  the  view  of  our  forefathers,  an 
aggravation  of  his  offences.  Yet  our  forefathers  should 
have  had  the  sense  and  the  justice  to  acknowledge 
that  the  patriotism,  which  they  considered  as  a  virtue  in 
themselves,  could  not  be  a  fault  in  him.  It  was  unjust  to 
blame  him  for  not  at  once  transferring  to  our  island  the 
love  which  he  bore  to  the  country  of  his  birth.  If,  io 
essentials,  he  did  his  duty  towards  England,  he  might 
well  be  suffered  to  feel  at  heart  an  affectionate  preference 
for  Holland.  Nor  is  it  a  reproach  to  him  that  he  did  not, 
in  the  season  of  his  greatness,  discard  companions  who 
had  played  with  him  in  his  childhood,  who  had  stood  by 
him  firmly  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  his  youth  and 
manhood,  who  had,  in  defiance  of  the  most  loathsome  and 
deadly  forms  of  infection,  kept  watch  by  his  sick  bed,  who 
had,  in  the  thickest  of  the  battle,  thrust  themselves  be- 
tween him  and  the  Frencli  swordrs,  and  whose  attachment 
was,  not  to  the  Stadtholder  or  to  the  King,  but  to  plain 
William  of  Nassau.  It  may  be  added  that  his  old  friends 
could  not  but  rise  in  his  estimation  by  comparison  with 
his  new  courtiers.  To  the  end  of  his  life  all  his  Dutch 
comrades,  without  exception,  continued  to  deserve  his 
confidence.  They  could  be  out  of  humor  with  him,  it  is 
true;  and,  when  out  of  humor,  they  could  be  sullen  and 
rude;  but  never  did  they,  even  when  most  angry  and  un- 
reasonable, fail  to  keep  his  secrets  and  to  watch  over  his 
interests  with  gentleman-like  and  soldier-like  fidelity. 
Among  his  English  counsellors  such  fidelity  was  rare.  It 
is  painful,  but  it  is  no  more  than  just,  to  acknowledge  that 

*  LuttreU's  Diary;  Evelyn's  Diary,  Feb.  as,  1689,  1690. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY.  4) 

he  had  but  too  good  reason  for  thinking  meanl}  of  our 
national  character.*  That  character  was  indeed,  i  i  essen- 
tials, what  it  has  always  been.  Veracity,  uprightness,  and 
manly  boldness  were  then,  as  now,  qualities  eminently  En- 
glish. But  those  qualities,  though  widely  diffused  among 
the  great  body  of  the  people,  were  seldom  to  be  found  in 
the  class  with  which  William  was  best  acquainted.  The 
standard  of  honor  and  virtue  among  our  public  men  was, 
during  his  reign,  at  the  very  lowest  point.  His  predeces- 
sors had  bequeathed  to  him  a  court  foul  with  all  the  vices 
of  the  Restoration,  a  court  swarming  with  sycophants, 
who  were  ready,  on  the  first  turn  of  fortune,  to  abandon 
him  as  they  had  abandoned  his  uncle.  Here  and  there, 
lost  in  that  ignoble  crowd,  was  to  be  found  a  man  of  true 
integrity  and  public  spirit.  Yet  even  such  a  man  could 
not  long  live  in  such  society  without  much  risk  that  the 
strictness  of  his  principles  would  be  relaxed,  and  the  deli- 
cacy of  his  sense  of  right  and  wrong  impaired.  It  was 
surely  unjust  to  blame  a  prince  surrounded  by  flatterers 
and  traitors  for  wishing  to  keep  near  him  four  or  five  ser- 
vants whom  he  knew  by  proof  to  be  faithful  even  to  death. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  instance  in  which  our  ancestors 
were  unjust  to  him.  They  had  expected  that,  as  soon  as 
so  distinguished  a  soldier  and  statesman  was  placed  at  the 
head  of  affairs,  he  would  give  some  signal  proof,  they 
scarcely  knew  what,  of  genius  and  vigor.  Unhappily,  dur- 
ing the  first  months  of  his  reign,  almost  everything  went 
wrong.  His  subjects,  bitterly  disappointed,  threw  the 
blame  on  him,  and  began  to  doubt  whether  he  merited 
that  reputation  which  he  had  won  at  his  first  entrance  into 
public  life,  and  which  the  splendid  success  of  his  last  great 
enterprise  had  raised  to  the  highest  point.  Had  they  been 
in  a  temper  to  judge  fairly,  they  would  have  perceived 
that  for  the  maladministration  of  which  they  with  good 
reason  complained  he  was  not  responsible.  He  could 
as  yet  work  only  with  the  machinery  which  he  had  found; 

*  De  Foe  makes  this  excuse  for  William: 

'*  We  blame  the  King  that  he  relies  too  much 
On  strangers,  Germans,  Huguenots,  and  Dutch, 
And  seldom  does  his  great  affairs  of  state 
To  English  counsellors  communicate. 
The  fact  might  very  well  be  answered  thus: 
He  has  too  often  been  betrayed  by  us. 
He  must  have  been  a  madman  to  rely 
On  English  gentlemen's  fidelity. 
The  Foreigners  have  faithfully  obeyed  him. 
And  done  but  Englishmen  have  e'er  betrayed  him." 

The  True  Born  Eaglishmaa,  Pa«t  II. 


48 


HISTORY  OF  iJNGLANt). 


and  the  machinery  which  he  had  found  was  all  rust  and 
rottenness.  From  the  tim.e  of  the  Restoration  to  the  time 
of  the  Revolution,  neglect  and  fraud  had  been  almost  con- 
stantly impairing  the  efficiency  of  every  department  of  the 
government.  Honors  and  public  trusts,  peerages,  baron- 
etcies, regiments,  frigates,  embassies,  governments,  com- 
missionerships,  leases  of  crown  lands,  contracts  for  cloth- 
ing, for  provisions,  for  ammunition,  pardons  for  murder, 
for  robbery,  for  arson,  were  sold  at  Whitehall  scarcely  less 
openly  than  asparagus  at  Covent  Garden  or  herrings  at 
Billingsgate.  Brokers  had  been  incessantly  plying  for 
custom  in  the  purHeus  of  the  court;  and  of  these  brokers 
the  most  successful  had  been,  in  the  days  of  Charles,  the 
harlots,  and  in  the  days  of  James,  the  priests.  From  the 
palace,  which  was  the  chief  seat  of  this  pestilence,  the  taint 
had  diffused  itself  through  every  office,  and  through  every 
rank  in  every  office,  and  had  everywhere  produced  feeble- 
ness and  disorganization.  So  rapid  was  the  progress  of 
the  decay,  that  within. eight  years  after  the  time  when 
Oliver  had  been  the  umpire  of  Europe,  the  roar  of  the 
guns  of  De  Ruyter  was  heard  in  the  Tower  of  London. 
The  vices  which  had  brought  that  great  humiliation  on  the 
country  had  ever  since  been  rooting  themselves  deeper  and 
spreading  themselves  wider.  James  had,  to  do  him  jus- 
tice, corrected  a  few  of  the  gross  abuses  which  disgraced 
the  naval  administration.  Yet  the  naval  administration, 
in  spite  of  his  attempts  to  reform  it,  moved  the  corrtempt 
of  men  who  were  acquainted  with  the  dockyards  of  France 
and  Holland.  The  military  administration  was  still  worse. 
The  courtiers  took  bribes  from  the  colonels:  the  colonels 
cheated  the  soldiers:  the  commissaries  sent  in  long  bills 
for  what  had  never  been  furnished:  the  keepers  of  the 
magazines  sold  the  public  stores  and  pocketed  the  price. 
But  these  evils,  though  they  had  sprung  into  existence  and 
grown  to  maturity  under  the  government  of  Charles  and 
James,  first  made  themselves  severely  felt  under  the  gov- 
ernment of  William.  For  Charles  and  James  were  con- 
tent to  be  the  vassals  and  pensioners  of  a  powerful  and 
ambitious  neighbor:  they  submitted  to  his  ascendency: 
they  shunned  with  pusillanimous  caution  whatever  could 
give  him  offence:  and  thus,  at  the  cost  of  the  independence 
and  dignity  of  that  ancient  and  glorious  crown  which  they 
unworthily  wore,  they  avoided  a  conflict  which  would  in- 
stantly have  shown  how  helpless,  under  their  misrule,  their 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


49 


once  formidable  kingdom  had  become.  Their  ignomin- 
•  iou5  policy  it  was  neither  in  William's  power  nor  in  his 
nature  to  follow.  It  was  only  by  arms  that  the  liberty  and 
religion  of  England  could  be  protected  against  the  might- 
iest enemy  that  had  threatened  our  island  since  the  He- 
brides were  strown  with  the  wrecks  of  the  Armada.  The 
body  politic,  which,  while  it  remained  in  repose,  had  pre- 
sented a  superficial  appearance  of  health  and  vigor,  was 
now  under  the  necessity  of  straining  every  nerve  in  a 
wrestle  for  life  or  death,  and  was  immediately  found  to  be 
unequal  to  the  exertion.  The  first  efforts  showed  an 
utter  relaxation  of  fiber,  an  utter  want  of  training.  Those 
efiForts  were,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  failures;  and 
every  failure  was  popularly  imputed,  not  to  the  rulers 
whose  mismanagement  had  produced  the  infirmities  of 
the  state,  but  to  the  ruler  in  whose  time  the  infirmities  of 
the  state  became  visible. 

William  might  indeed,  if  he  had  been  as  absolute  as 
Lewis,  have  used  such  sharp  remedies  as  would  speedily 
have  restored  to  the  English  administration  that  firm  tone 
which  had  been  wanting  since  the  death  of  Oliver.  But 
the  instantaneous  reform  of  inveterate  abuses  was  a  task 
far  beyond  the  powers  of  a  prince  strictly  restrained  by 
law,  and  restrained  still  more  strictly  by  the  difficulties  of 
his  situation.* 

Some  of  the  most  serious  difficulties  of  his  situation 
were  caused  by  the  conduct  of  the  ministers  on  whom,  new 
as  he  was  to  the  details  of  English  affairs,  he  was  forced  to 
rely  for  information  about  men  and  things.  There  was 
indeed  no  want  of  ability  among  his  chief  counsellors: 
but  one  half  of  their  ability  was  employed  in  counteract- 
ing the  other  half.  Between  the  Lord  President  and  the 
Lord  Privy  Seal  there  was  an  inveterate  enemity.f  It  had 
begun  twelve  years  before,  when  Danby  was  Lord  High 
Treasurer,  a  persecutor  of  non-conformists,  an  uncompro- 
mising defender  of  prerogative,  and  when  Halifax  was 
rising  to  distinction  as  one  of  the  most  eloquent  leaders  of 
the  ci  intry  party.  In  the  reign  of  James,  the  two  states- 
men iiad  found   themselves  in  opposition  together;  and 

*  Rot^quillo  had  the  good  sense  and  justice  to  make  allowances  which  the  English  did 
not  make.  After  describing,  in  a  despatch  dated  March  i-ii,  1689,  the  lamentabL  state 
of  thejnilitary  and  naval  establishments,  he  says,  ''De  esto  no  tiene  culpa  el  Principe  de 
Oranges;  porque  pensar  que  se  han  de  poder  vol  ver  en  dos  meses  tres  Reynos  de  abaxo 
arriba  es  una  extra vagancia."  Lord  President  Stair,  in  a  letter  written  from  London 
about  a  month  later,  says  that  the  delays  of  the  English  administratioii  ha(J  JowefCcI  t}i§ 
King's  reputation,  "though  without  his  fault," 

t  Burnet,  ii.  ^;  Kqrt^sby, 


Jo  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

their  common  hostility  to  France  and  to  Rome,  to  the 
High  Commission  and  to  the  dispensing  power,  had  pro- 
duced an  apparent  reconciliation;  but  as  soon  as  they  were 
in  office  together  the  old  antipathy  revived.  The  hatred 
which  the  Whig  party  felt  towards  them  both  ought,  it 
should  seem,  to  have  produced  a  close  alliance  between 
them:  but  in  fact  each  of  them  saw  with  complacency  the 
danger  which  threatened  the  other.  Danby  exerted  him- 
self to  rally  round  him  a  strong  phalanx  of  Tories.  Under 
the  plea  of  ill  health,  he  withdrew  from  court,  seldom 
came  to  the  Council  over  which  it  was  his  duty  to  preside, 
passed  much  time  in  the  country,  and  took  scarcely  any 
part  in  public  affairs  except  by  grumbling  and  sneering  at 
all  the  acts  of  the  government,  and  by  doing  jobs  and  get- 
ting places  tor  his  personal  retainers.*  In  consequence  of 
this  defection,  Halifax  became  Prime  Minister,  as  far  as 
any  minister  could,  in  that  reign,  be  called  Prime  Minister. 
An  immense  load  of  business  fell  on  him;  and  that  load  he 
was  unable  to  sustain.  In  wit  and  eloquence,  in  ampli- 
tude of  comprehension  and  subtlety  of  disquisition,  he  had 
no  equal  among  the  statesmen  of  his  time.  But  that  very 
fertility,  that  very  acuteness,  which  gave  a  singular  charm 
to  his  conversation,  to  his  oratory,  and  to  his  writings,  un- 
fitted him  for  the  work  of  promptly  deciding  practical 
questions.  He  was  slow  from  very  quickness.  For  he 
saw  so  many  arguments  for  and  against  every  possible 
course,  that  he  was  longer  in  making  up  his  mind  than  a 
dull  man  would  have  been.  Instead  of  acquiescing  in  his 
first  thoughts,  he  replied  on  himself,  rejoined  on  himself, 
and  sur-rejoined  on  himself.  Those  who  heard  him  talk 
owned  that  he  talked  like  an  angel:  but  too  often,  when 
he  had  exhausted  all  that  could  be  said,  and  came  to  act, 
the  time  for  action  was  over. 

Meanwhile  the  two  Secretaries  of  State  were  constantly 
laboring  to  draw  their  master  in  diametrically  opposite 
directions.  Every  scheme,  every  person,  recommended 
by  one  of  them  was  reprobated  by  the  other.  Nottingham 
was  n  ver  weary  of  repeating  that  the  old  Roundhead 
party,  ,he  party  which  had  taken  the  life  of  Charles  the 
First  and  had  plotted  against  the  life  of  Charles  the 
Second,  was  in  principle  republican,  and  that  the  Tories 
were  the  only  true  friends  of  monarchy.  Shrewsbury  re- 
plied that  the  Tories  might  be  friends  of  monarchy,  but 

*  Jser^sby'?  Memoirs;  Burnet  MS.  Had.  6584. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


that  they  regarded  James  as  their  monarch.  Nottingham 
was  always  bringing  to  the  closet  intelligence  of  the  wild 
day-dreams  in  which  a  few  old  eaters  of  calf's  head,  the 
remains  of  the  once  formidable  party  of  Bradshaw  and 
Ireton,  still  indulged  at  taverns  in  the  City.  Shrewsbury 
produced  ferocious  lampoons  which  the  Jacobites  dropped 
every  day  in  the  coffee-houses.  Every  Whig,"  said  the 
Tory  Secretary,  ^4s  an  enemy  of  Your  Majesty's  preroga- 
tive." Every  Tory,*'  said  the  Whig  Secretary,  is  an  ene- 
my of  Your  Majesty's  title."* 

At  the  Treasury  there  was  a  complication  of  jealousies 
and  quarrels. f  Both  the  First  Commissioner,  Mordaunt, 
and  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  Delamere,  were  zeal- 
ous Whigs:  but  though  they  held  the  same  political  creed, 
their  tempers  differed  widely.  Mordaunt  was  volatile,  dis- 
sipated, and  generous.  The  wits  of  that  time  laughed  at 
the  way  in  which  he  flew  about  from  Hampton  Court  to 
the  Royal  Exchange,  and  from  the  Royal  Exchange  back 
to  Hampton  Court.  How  he  found  time  for  dress,  politics, 
love-making,  and  ballad-making  was  a  wonder.J  Delamere 
was  gloomy  and  acrimonious,  austere  in  his  private  mor- 
als, and  punctual  in  his  devotions,  but  greedy  of  ignoble 
gain.  The  two  principal  ministers  of  finance,  therefore, 
became  enemies,  and  agreed  only  in  hating  their  colleague 
Godolphin.  What  business  had  he  at  Whitehall  in  these 
days  of  Protestant  ascendency,  he  who  had  sate  at  the  same 
board  with  Papists,  he  who  had  never  scrupled  to  attend 
Mary  of  Modena  to  the  idolatrous  worship  of  the  Mass  ? 
The  most  provoking  circumstance  was  that  Godolphin, 
though  his  name  stood  only  third  in  the  commission,  was 
really  first  Lord.  For  in  financial  knowledge  and  in  habits 
of  business  Mordaunt  and  Delamere  were  mere  children 
when  compared  with  him;  and  this  William  soon  dis- 
covered.§ 

Similar  feuds  raged  at  other  great  boards  and  through 
all  the  subordinate  ranks  of  public  functionaries.  In  every 
custom-house,  in  every  arsenal,  were  a  Shrewsbury  and  a 
Nottingham,  a  Delamere  and  a  Godolphin.  The  Whigs 
complained  that  there  was  no  department  in  which  crea- 

*  Burnet,  ii.  3,  4,  15.  t  Burnet,  ii.  5. 

t  "  How  does  he  do  to  distribute  his  hours, 

Some  to  the  Court  and  some  to  the  City, 
Some  to  the  State,  and  some  to  Love's  powers, 
.Some  to  be  vain  and  some  to  be  witty!" 

The  Modern  Lampooners,  a  poem  of  xSgn. 

I  Burnet,  ii.  4. 


OF  ILL  UB. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


tures  of  the  fallen  t)''ranny  were  not  to  be  found.  It  was 
idle  to  allege  that  these  men  were  versed  in  the  details  oi 
business,  that  they  were  the  depositaries  of  official  tradi- 
tions, and  that  the  friends  of  liberty,  having  been,  during 
many  years,  excluded  from  public  employment,  must 
necessarily  be  incompetent  to  take  on  themselves  at  once 
the  whole  management  of  affairs.  Experience  doubtless 
had  its  value:  but  surely  the  first  of  all  the  qualifications 
of  a  servant  was  fidelity;  and  no  Tory  could  be  a  really 
faithful  servant  of  the  new  government.  If  King  William 
were  wise,  he  would  rather  trust  novices  zealous  for  his 
interest  and  honor  than  veterans,  who  might  indeed  possess 
ability  and  knowledge,  but  who  would  use  that  ability  and 
that  knowledge  to  effect  his  ruin. 

The  Tories,  on  the  other  hand,  complained  that  their 
share  of  power  bore  no  proportion  to  their  number,  or  to 
their  weight  in  the  country,  and  that  everywhere  old  and 
useful  public  servants  were,  for  the  crime  of  being  friends 
to  monarchy  and  to  the  Church,  turned  out  of  their  posts 
to  make  way  for  Rye  House  plotters  and  haunters  of  con- 
venticles. .  These  upstarts,  adepts  in  the  art  of  factious 
agitation,  but  ignorant  of  all  that  belonged  to  their  new 
calling,  would  be  just  beginning  to  learn  their  business 
when  they  had  undone  the  nation  by  their  blunders.  To 
be  a  rebel  and  a  schismatic  was  surely  not  all  that  ought 
to  be  required  of  a  man  in  high  employment.  What 
would  become  of  the  finances,  what  of  the  marine,  if 
Whigs  who  could  not  understand  the  plainest  balance 
sheet  were  to  manage  the  revenue,  and  Whigs  who  had 
never  walked  over  a  dockyard  to  fit  out  the  fleet  ?  * 

The  truth  is  that  the  charges  which  the  two  parties 
brought  against  each  other  were,  to  a  great  extent,  well 
founded,  but  that  the  blame  which  both  threw  on  William 
was  unjust.  Official  experience  was  to  be  found  almost 
exclusively  among  the  Tories,  hearty  attachment  to  the 
new  settlement  almost  exclusively  among  the  Whigs.  It 
was  not  the  fault  of  the  King  that  the  knowledge  and  the 
zeal,  which,  combined,  make  a  valuable  servant  of  the 
state,  must  at  that  time  be  had  separately  or  nort  at  all.  If 
he  employed  men  of  one  party,  there  was  great  risk  of 

*  Ronquillo  calls  the  Whig  functionaries  "Gente  que  no  tienen  pratica  ni  experiencia." 
He  adds,  '"Y  de  esto  procede  el  ijasarse  un  mes  y  un  otro,  sin  executarse  nada."  Tune 
a4,  1689.  one  of  the  innumerable  Dialogues  which  appeared  at  that  time,  the  Tory 
interlocutor  puts  the  question:  ''Do  you  think  the  government  would  be  better 
served  by  strangers  to  business?"  The  Whig  answer*, ''Better  ignorant  friends  thaa 
Doderstanding  enemies," 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


mistakes.  If  he  employed  men  of  the  other  party,  there 
was  great  risk  of  treachery.  If  he  employed  men  of  both 
parties,  there  was  still  some  risk  of  mistakes;  there  was 
still  some  risk  of  treachery;  and  to  these  risks  was  added 
the  certainty  of  dissension.  He  might  join  Whigs  and 
Tories:  but  it  was  beyond  his  power  to  mix  them.  In  the 
same  office,  at  the  same  desk,  they  were  still  enemies,  and 
agreed  only  in  murmuring  at  the  Prince  who  tried  to  me- 
diate between  them.  It  was  inevitable  that,  in  such  cin 
cumstances,  the  administration,  fiscal,  military,  naval, 
should  be  feeble  and  unsteady;  that  nothing  should  be 
done  in  quite  the  right  way  or  at  quite  the  right  time:  that 
the  distractions  from  which  scarcely  any  public  office  was 
exempt  should  produce  disasters,  and  that  every  disaster 
should  increase  the  distractions  from  which  it  had  sprung. 

There  was  indeed  one  department  of  which  the  business 
was  well  conducted;  and  that  was  the  department  of  For- 
eign Affairs.  There  William  directed  everything,  and,  on 
important  occasions,  neither  asked  the  advice  nor  em- 
ployed the  agency  of  any  English  politician.  One  invalu- 
able assistant  he  had,  Anthony  Heinsius,  who,  a  few  weeks 
after  the  Revolution  had  been  accomplished,  became  Pen- 
sionary of  Holland.  Heinsius  had  entered  public  life  as  a 
member  of  that  party  which  was  jealous  of  the  power  of 
the  House  of  Orange,  and  desirous  to  be  on  friendly  terms 
with  France.  But  he  had  been  sent  in  1681  on  a  diplo- 
matic mission  to  Versailles;  and  a  short  residence  there 
had  produced  a  complete  change  in  his  views.  On  a  near 
acquaintance,  he  was  alarmed  by  the  power  and  provoked 
by  the  insolence  of  that  Court  of  which,  while  he  contem- 
plated it  only  at  a  distance,  he  had  formed  a  favorable 
opinion.  He  found  that  his  country  was  despised.  He 
saw  his  religion  persecuted.  His  official  character  did  not 
save  him  from  some  personal  affronts  which,  to  the  latest 
day  of  his  long  career,  he  never  forgot.  He  went  home  a 
devoted  adherent  of  William  and  a  mortal  enemy  of 
Lewis.* 

The  office  of  Pensionary,  always  important,  was  peculi- 
arly importarnt  when  the  Stadtholder  was  absent  from  the 
Hague.  Had  the  politics  of  Heinsius  been  still  what  they 
once  were,  all  the  great  designs  of  William  might  have 
been  frustrated.  But  happily  there  was  between  these 
two  eminent  men  a  perfect  friendship,  which,  till  death 


♦  N^gociations  de  M.  Lc  Cointe  d'Avaux,  4  Mars  1683;  Torcy's  Me«noir», 


54 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANI). 


dissolved  it,  appears  never  to  have  been  interrupted  for 
one  moment  by  suspicion  or  ill-humor.  On  all  large  ques- 
tions of  European  policy  they  cordially  agreed.  They 
corresponded  assiduously  and  most  unreservedly.  For, 
though  William  was  slow  to  give  his  confidence,  yet,  when 
he  gave  it,  he  gave  it  entire.  The  correspondence  is  still 
extant,  and  is  most  honorable  to  both.  The  King's  letters 
would  alone  suffice  to  prove  that  he  was  one  of  the  great- 
est statesmen  whom  Europe  has  produced.  While  he 
lived,  the  Pensionary  was  content  to  be  the  most  obedient, 
the  most  trusty,  and  the  most  discreet  of  servants.  But, 
after  the  death  of  the  master,  the  servant  proved  himself 
capable  of  supplying  with  eminent  ability  the  master's 
place,  and  was  renowned  throughout  Europe  as  one  of  the 
great  Triumvirate  which  humbled  the  pride  of  Lewis  the 
Fourteenth.* 

The  foreign  policy  of  England,  directed  immediately  by 
William  in  close  concert  with  Heinsius,  was,  at  this  time, 
eminently  skillful  and  successful.  But  in  every  other  part 
of  the  administration  the  evils  arising  from  the  mutual 
animosity  of  factions  were  but  too  plainly  discernible. 
Nor  was  this  all.  To  the  evils  arising  from  the  mutual 
animosity  of  factions  were  added  other  evils  arising  from 
the  mutual  animosity  of  sects. 

The  year  1689  is  not  a  less  important  epoch  in  the  ecclesi- 
astical than  in  the  civil  history  of  England.  In  that  year 
was  granted  the  first  legal  indulgence  to  Dissenters.  In 
that  year  was  made  the  last  serious  attempt  to  bring  the 
Presbyterians  within  the  pale  of  the  Church  of  England. 
From  that  year  dates  a  new  schism  made  in  defiance  of 
ancient  precedents,  by  men  who  had  always  professed  to 
regard  schism  with  peculiar  abhorrence,  and  ancient  pre- 
cedents with  peculiar  veneration.  In  that  year  began  the 
long  struggle  between  two  great  parties  of  conformists. 
Those  parties  indeed  had,  under  various  forms,  existed 
within  the  Anglican  communion  ever  since  the  Reforma- 
tion; but  till  after  the  Revolution  they  did  not  appear 
marshalled  in  regular  and  permanent  order  of  battle  against 
each  other,  and  were  therefore  not  known  by  established 
names.    Some  time  after  the  accession  of  William  they 

*  The  original  correspondence  of  William  and  Heinsius  is  in  Dxtch.  AFrench  transla- 
tion of  all  William's  letters,  and  an  English  translation  of  a  few  of  Heinsius's  lettcrSj 
are  among  the  Mackintosh  MSS.  The  Baron  Sirtema  dc  Grovestins,  who  has  had 
access  to  the  originals,  frequently  quotes  passages  in  his  ''Histoire  des  luttes  et  rivalit^a 
cntre  les  puissances  maritimes  et  la  France."  There  is  very  little  difference  in  sub' 
ptancc,  though  much  in  phraseology,  between  his  version  and  that  which  I  have  used. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


55 


began  to  be  called  the  High  Church  party  and  the  Low 
Church  party;  and,  long  before  the  end  of  his  reign,  these 
appellations  were  in  common  use.* 

In  the  summer  of  1688  the  breaches  which  had  long 
divided  the  great  body  of  English  Protestants  had  seemed 
to  be  almost  closed.  Disputes  about  Bishops  and  Synods, 
written  prayers  and  extemporaneous  prayers,  white  gowns 
and  black  gowns,  sprinkling  and  dipping,  kneeling  and 
sitting,  had  been  for  a  short  space  intermitted.  The  ser- 
ried array  which  was  then  drawn  up  against  Popery  meas- 
ured the  whole  of  the  vast  interval  which  separated  San- 
croft  from  Bunyan.  Prelates  recently  conspicuous  as  per- 
secutors, now  declared  themselves  friends  of  religious  lib- 
erty, and  exhorted  their  clergy  to  live  in  a  constant  inter- 
change of  hospitality  and  of  kind  offices  with  the  Separa- 
tists. Separatists,  on  the  other  hand,  who  had  recently 
considered  mitres  and  lawn  sleeves  as  the  livery  of  Anti- 
christ, were  putting  candles  in  windows  and  throwing  fag- 
ots on  bonfires  in  honor  of  the  prelates. 

These  feelings  continued  to  grow  till  they  attained  their 
greatest  height  on  the  memorable  day  on  which  the  com- 
mon oppressor  finally  quitted  Whitehall,  and  on  which  an 
innumerable  multitude,  tricked  out  in  orange  ribbons,  wel- 
comed the  common  deliverer  to  St.  James's.  When  the 
clergy  of  London  came,  headed  by  Compton,  to  express 
their  gratitude  to  him  by  whose  instrumentality  God  had 
wrought  salvation  for  the  Church  and  the  State,  the  pro- 
cession was  swollen  by  some  eminent  non-conformist  di- 
vines. It  was  delightful  to  many  good  men  to  hear  that 
pious  and  learned  Presbyterian  ministers  had  walked  in 
the  train  of  a  bishop,  had  been  greeted  by  him  with  fra- 
ternal kindness,  and  had  been  announced  by  liim  in  the 
presence  chamber  as  his  dear  and  respected  friends,  sepa- 
rated from  him  indeed  by  some  differences  of  opinion  on 
minor  points,  but  united  to  him  by  Christian  charity  and 
by  common  zeal  for  the  essentials  of  the  reformed  faith. 
There  had  never  before  been  such  a  day  in  England;  and 
there  has  never  since  been  such  a  day.  The  tide  of  feel- 
ing was  already  on  the  turn;  and  the  ebb  was  even  more 
rapid  than  the  flow  had  been.  In  a  very  few  hours  the 
High  Churchman  began  to  feel  tenderness  for  the  enemy 
whose  tyranny  was  now  no  longer  feared,  and  dislike  of  the 

*  Though  these  very  convenient  names  are  not,  as  far  as  I  know,  to  be  found  in  any 
book  printed  during  the  earlier  years  of  William's  reign,  I  shall  use  them  without  sqtw 
pie,  as  others  h£^vc  done,  in  writing  about  the  tRnsactions  of  those  year§, 


56 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


allies  whose  services  were  now  no  longer  needed,  rt  was 
easy  to  gratify  both  feelings  by  imputing  to  the  Dissenters 
the  misgovernment  of  the  exiled  King.  His  Majesty, — 
such  was  now  the  language  of  too  many  Anglican  divines, — 
would  have  been  an  excellent  sovereign  had  he  not  been 
too  confiding,  too  forgiving.  He  had  put  his  trust  in  a 
class  of  men  who  hated  his  office,  his  family,  his  person, 
with  implacable  hatred.  He  had  ruined  himself  in  the 
vain  attempt  to  conciliate  them.  He  had  relieved  them, 
in  defiance  of  law  and  of  the  unanimous  sense  of  the  old 
royalist  party,  from  the  pressure  of  the  penal  code;  had 
allowed  them  to  worship  God  publicly  after  their  own 
mean  and  tasteless  fashion;  had  admitted  them  to  the 
bench  of  justice  and  to  the  Privy  Council;  had  gratified 
them  with  fur  robes,  gold  chains,  salaries,  and  pensions. 
In  return  for  his  liberality,  these  people,  once  so  uncouth 
in  demeanor,  once  so  savage  in  opposition  even  to  legiti- 
mate authority,  had  become  the  most  abject  of  flatterers. 
They  had  continued  to  applaud  and  encourage  him  when 
the  most  devoted  friends  of  his  family  had  retired  in  shame 
and  sorrow  from  his  palace.  Who  had  more  foully  sold 
the  religion  and  liberty  of  England  than  Titus?  Who  had 
been  more  zealous  for  the  dispensing  power  than  Alsop. 
Who  had  urged  on  the  persecution  of  the  seven  Bishops 
more  fiercely  than  Lobb?  What  chaplain  impatient  for  a 
deanery  had  ever,  even  when  preaching  in  the  royai  pres- 
ence on  the  thirtieth  of  January  or  the  twenty-ninth  of 
May,  uttered  adulation  more  gross  than  might  easily  be 
found  in  those  addresses  by  which  dissenting  congrega- 
tions had  testified  their  gratitude  for  the  illegal  Declara- 
tion of  Indulgence?  Was  it  strange  that  a  prince  who  had 
never  studied  law  books  should  have  believed  that  he 
was  only  exercising  his  rightful  prerogative,  when  he  was 
thus  encouraged  by  a  faction  which  had  always  ostenta- 
tiously professed  hatred  of  arbitrary  power?  Misled  by 
such  guidance  he  had  gone  further  and  further  in  the  wrong 
path:  he  had  at  length  estranged  from  him  hearts  which 
would  once  have  poured  forth  their  best  blood  in  his  de- 
fence: he  had  left  himself  no  supporters  except  his  old 
foes;  and,  when  the  day  of  peril  came,  he  had  found  that 
the  feeling  of  his  old  foes  towards  him  was  still  what  it 
had  been  when  they  had  attempted  to  rob  him  of  his  in- 
heritance, and  when  they  had  plotted  against  his  life. 
Every  mm  of  sense  had  long  known  that  the  sectaries 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


57 


bore  no  love  to  monarchy.  It  had  now  been  found  that 
they  bore  as  little  love  to  freedom.  To  trust  them  with 
power  would  be  an  error  not  less  fatal  to  the  nation  than 
to  the  throne.  If,  in  order  to  redeem  pledges  somewhat 
rashly  given  it  should  be  thought  necessary  to  grant  them 
relief,  every  concession 'ought  to  be  accompanied  by  limita- 
tions and  precautions.  Above  all,  no  man  who  was  an 
enemy  to  the  ecclesiastical  constitution  of  the  realm  ought 
to  be  permitted  to  bear  any  part  in  the  civil  government. 

Between  the  non-conformists  and  the  rigid  conformists 
stood  the  Low  Church  party.  That  party  contained,  as  it 
still  contains,  two  very  different  elements,  a  Puritan  element 
and  a  Latitudinarian  element.  On  almost  every  ques- 
tion, however,  relating  either  to  ecclesiastical  polity  or  to 
the  ceremonial  of  public  worship,  the  Puritan  Low  Church- 
man and  the  Latitudinarian  Low  Churchman  were  per- 
fectly agreed.  They  saw  in  the  existing  polity  and  in  the 
existing  ceremonial  no'  defect,  no  blemish,  which  could 
make  it  their  duty  to  become  Dissenters.  Nevertheless 
they  held  that  both  the  polity  and  the  ceremonial  were 
means  and  not  ends,  and  that  the  essential  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity might  exist  without  episcopal  orders  and  without  a 
Book  of  Common  Prayer.  They  had,  while  James  was  on 
the  throne,  been  mainly  instrumental  in  forming  the  great 
Protestant  coalition  against  Popery  and  tyranny;  and  they 
continued  in  1689  to  hold  the  same  conciliatory  language 
which  they  had  held  in  1688.  They  gently  blamed  the 
scruples  of  the  non-conformists.  It  was  undoubtedly  a 
great  weakness  to  imagine  that  there  could  be  any  sin  in 
wearing  a  white  robe,  in  tracing  a  cross,  in  kneelmg  at  the 
rails  of  an  altar.  But  the  highest  authority  had  given  the 
plainest  directions  as  to  the  manner  in  which  such  weak- 
ness was  to  be  treated.  The  weak  brother  was  not  to  be 
judged:  he  was  not  to  be  despised:  believers  who  had 
stronger  minds  were  commanded  to  soothe  him  by  large 
compliances,  and  carefully  to  remove  out  of  his  path  every 
stumbling-block  which  could  cause  him  to  offend.  An 
apostle  had  declared  that,  though  he  had  himself  no  mis- 
givings about  the  use  of  animal  food  or  of  wine,  he  would 
eat  herbs  and  drink  water  rather  than  give  scandal  to  the 
feeblest  of  his  flock.  What  would  he  have  thought  of  eccle- 
siastical rulers  who,  for  the  sake  of  a  vestment,  a  gesture, 
a  posture,  had  not  only  torn  the  Church  asunder,  but  had 
filled  all  the  gaols  of  England  with  men  of  orthodox  faith 


58 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  saintly  life?  The  reflections  thrown  by  the  High 
Churchmen  on  the  recent  conduct  of  the  dissenting  body 
the  Low  Churchmen  pronounced  to  be  grossly  unjust. 
The  wonder  was,  not  that  a  few  non-conformists  should 
have  accepted  with  thanks  an  indulgence  which,  illegal  as 
it  v/as,  had  opened  the  doors  of  their  prisons  and  given 
security  to  their  hearths,  but  that  the  non-conformists  gen- 
erally should  have  been  true  to  the  cause  of  a  constitution 
from  the  benefits  of  which  they  had  been  long  excluded. 
It  was  most  unfair  to  impute  to  a  great  party  the  faults 
of  a  few  individuals.  Even  among  the  bishops  of  the 
established  Church  James  had  found  tools  and  sycophants. 
The  conduct  of  Cartwright  and  Parker  had  been  much 
more  inexcusable  than  that  of  Alsop  and  Lobb.  Yet  those 
who  held  the  Dissenters  answerable  for  the  errors  of  Alsop 
and  Lobb  would  doubtless  think  it  most  unreasonable  to 
hold  the  Church  answerable  for  the  far  deeper  guilt  of 
Cartwright  and  Parker. 

The  Low  Church  clergymen  were  a  minority,  and  not  a 
large  minority,  of  their  profession:  but  their  weight  was 
much  more  than  proportioned  to  their  numbers:  for  they 
mustered  strong  in  the  capital;  they  had  great  influence 
there;  and  the  average  of  intellect  and  knowledge  was 
higher  among  them  than  among  their  order  generally.  We 
should  probably  overrate  their  numerical  strength,  if  we 
were  to  estimate  them  at  a  tenth  part  of  the  priesthood. 
Yet  it  will  scarcely  be  denied  that  there  were  among  them 
as  many  men  of  distinguished  eloquence  and  learning  as 
could  be  found  in  the  other  nine-tenths.  Among  the  laily 
who  conformed  to  the  established  religion  the  parties  were 
not  unevenly  balanced.  Indeed  the  line  which  separated 
them  deviated  very  little  from  the  line  which  separated  the 
Whigs  and  the  Tories.  In  the  House  of  Commons,  whkli 
had  been  elected  when  the  Whigs  were  triumphant,  the 
Low  Church  party  greatly  preponderated.  In  the  Lords 
there  was  an  almost  exact  equipoise;  and  very  slight  circum.- 
stances  sufficed  to  turn  the  scale. 

The  head  of  the  Low  Church  party  was  the  King.  He 
had  been  bred  a  Presbyterian:  he  was,  from  rational  con- 
viction, a  Latitudinarian;  and  personal  ambition,  as  well 
as  higher  motives,  prompted  him  to  act  as  mediator  among 
Protestant  sects.  He  was  bent  on  effecting  three  great 
reforms  in  the  laws  touching  ecclesiastical  matters.  His 
first  object  was  to  obtain  for  dissenters  permission  to  cele- 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


59 


brate  their  worship  in  freedom  and  security.  His  second 
object  was  to  make  such  changes  in  the  Anglican  ritual 
and  polity  as,  without  offending  those  to  whom  that  ritual 
and  that  polity  were  dear,  might  conciliate  the  moderate 
non-conformists.  His  third  object  was  to  throw  open  civil 
offices  to  Protestants  without  distinction  of  sect.  All  his 
three  objects  were  good:  but  the  first  only  was  at  that  time 
attainable.  He  came  too  late  for  the  second,  and  too  early 
for  the  third. 

A  few  days  after  his  accession,  he  took  a  step  which  indi- 
cated, in  a  manner  not  to  be  mistaken,  his  sentiments  touch- 
ing ecclesiastical  polity  and  public  worship.  He  found 
only  one  see  unprovided  with  a  bishop.  Seth  Ward,  who 
had,  during  many  years,  had  charge  of  the  diocese  of  Salis- 
bury, and  who  had  been  honorably  distinguished  as  one  of 
the  founders  of  the  Royal  Society,  having  long  survived 
his  faculties,  died  while  the  country  was  agitated  by  the 
elections  for  the  Convention,  without  knowing  that  great 
events,  of  which  not  the  least  important  had  passed 
under  his  own  roof,  had  saved  his  Church  and  his 
country  from  ruin.  The  choice  of  a  successor  was  no 
light  matter.  That  choice  would  inevitably  be  con- 
sidered by  the  country  as  a  prognostic  of  the  highest 
import.  The  King  too  might  well  be  perplexed  by  the 
number  of  divines  whose  erudition,  eloquence,  courage, 
and  uprightness  had  been  conspicuously  displayed  during 
the  contentions  of  the  last  three  years.  The  preference 
was  given  to  Burnet.  His  claims  were  doubtless  great. 
Yet  William  might  have  had  a  more  tranquil  reign  if  he 
had  postponed  for  a  time  the  well-earned  promotion  of  his 
chaplain,  and  had  bestowed  the  first  great  spiritual  prefer- 
ment, which,  after  the  Revolution,  fell  to  the  disposal  of 
the  Crown,  on  some  eminent  theologian,  attached  to  the 
new  settlement,  yet  not  generally  hated  by  the  clerg}^ 
Unhappily  the  name  of  Burnet  was  odious  to  the  great  ma- 
jority of  the  Anglican  priesthood.  Though,  as  respected 
doctrine,  he  by  no  means  belonged  to  the  extreme  section 
of  the  Latitudinarian  party,  he  was  popularly  regarded  as 
the  personification  of  the  Latitudinarian  spirit.  This  dis- 
tinction he  owed  to  the  prominent  place  which  he  held  in 
literature  and  politics,  to  the  readiness  of  his  tongue  and 
of  his  pen,  and  above  all  to  the  frankness  and  boldness  of 
his  nature,  frankness  which  could  keep  no  secret,  and  bold- 
ness which  flinched  from  no  danger.     He  had  formed  but 


6o 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


a  low  estimate  of  the  character  of  his  clerical  brethren  con- 
sidered as  a  body;  and  with  his  usual  indiscretion,  he  fre- 
quently suffered  his  opinion  to  escape  him.  They  hated 
him  in  return  with  a  hatred  which  has  descended  to  their 
successors,  and  which,  after  the  lapse  of  a  century  and  a 
half,  does  not  appear  to  languish. 

As  soon  as  the  King's  decision  was  known,  the  question 
was  everywhere  asked,  What  will  the  Archbishop  do  ? 
Sancroft  had  absented  himself  from  the  Convention:  he 
had  refused  to  sit  in  the  Privy  Council:  he  had  ceased  to 
confirm,  to  ordain,  and  to  institute;  and  he  was  seldom 
seen  beyond  the  walls  of  his  palace  at  Lambeth.  He,  on 
all  occasions,  professed  to  think  himself  still  bound  by  his 
old  oath  of  allegiance.  Burnet  he  regarded  as  a  scandal 
to  the  priesthood,  a  Presbyterian  in  a  surplice.  The  pre- 
late who  should  lay  hands  on  that  unworthy  head  would 
commit  more  than  one  great  sin.  He  would,  in  a  sacred 
place,  and  before  a  great  congregation  of  the  faithful,  at 
once  acknowledge  an  usurper  as  a  King,  and  confer  on  a 
schismatic  the  character  of  a  Bishop.  During  some  time 
Sancroft  positively  declared  that  he  would  not  obey  the  pre- 
cept of  William.  Lloyd  of  Saint  Asaph,  who  was  the  com- 
mon friend  of  the  Archbishop  and  of  the  Bishop  elect,  en- 
treated and  expostulated  in  vain.  Nottingham,  who,  of 
all  the  laymen  connected  with  the  new  government,  stood 
best  with  the  clergy,  tried  his  influence,  but  to  no  better 
purpose.  The  Jacobites  said  everywhere  that  they 
were  sure  of  the  good  old  Primate;  that  he  had  the 
spirit  of  a  martyr;  that  he  was  determined  to  brave, 
in  the  cause  of  the  Monarchy  and  of  the  Church,  the  ut- 
most rigor  of  those  laws  with  which  the  obsequious  parlia- 
ments of  the  sixteenth  century  had  fenced  the  Royal 
Supremacy.  He  did  in  truth  hold  out  long.  But  at 
the  last  moment  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  looked  round 
him  for  some  mode  of  escape.  Fortunately,  as  childish 
scruples  often  disturbed  his  conscience,  childish  expedi- 
ents often  quieted  it.  A  more  childish  expedient  than 
that  to  which  he  now  resorted  is  not  to  be  found  in 
all  the  tomes  of  the  casuists.  He  would  not  himself  bear 
a  part  in  the  service.  He  would  not  publicly  pray  for  the 
Prince  and  Princess  as  King  and  Queen,  He  would  not 
call  for  their  mandate,  order  it  to  be  read,  and  then  pro- 
ceed to  obey  it.  But  he  issued  a  commission  empowering 
^ny  three  of  his  suffragans  to  commit  in  his  name,  and  as 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


6i 


his  delegates,  the  sins  which  he  did  not  choose  to  commit 

in  person.  The  reproaches  of  all  parties  soon  made  him 
ashamed  of  himself.  He  then  tried  to  suppress  the  evi- 
dence of  his  fault  by  means  more  discreditable  than  the 
fault  itself.  He  abstracted  from  among  the  public  records 
of  which  he  was  the  guardian  the  instrument  by  which  he 
had  authorized  his  brethren  to  act  for  him,  and  was  with 
difficulty  induced  to  give  it  up.* 

Burnet  however  had,  under  the  authority  of  this  instru- 
ment, been  consecrated.  When  he  next  waited  on  Mary, 
she  reminded  him  of  the  conversations  which  they  had 
held  at  the  Hague  about  the  high  duties  and  grave  re- 
sponsibility of  Bishops.  I  hope,"  she  said,  that  you  will 
put  your  notions  in  practice."  Her  hope  was  not  disap- 
pointed. Whatever  aiay  be  thought  of  Burnet's  opinions 
touching  civil  and  ecclesiastical  polity,  or  of  the  temper 
and  judgment  which  he  showed  in  defending  those  opin- 
ions, the  utmost  malevolence  of  faction  could  not  venture 
to  deny  that  he  tended  his  flock  with  a  zeal,  diligence, 
and  disinterestedness  worthy  of  the  purest  ages  of  the 
Church.  His  jurisdiction  extended  over  Wiltshire  and 
Berkshire.  These  counties  he  divided  into  districts  which 
he  sedulously  visited.  About  two  months  of  every  sum- 
mer he  passed  in  preaching,  catechising,  and  confirming 
daily  from  church  to  church.  When  he  died  there  was 
no  corner  of  his  diocese  in  which  the  people  had  not  had 
seven  or  eight  opportunities  of  receiving  his  instructions 
and  of  asking  his  advice.  The  worst  weather,  the  worst 
roads,  did  not  prevent  him  from  discharging  these  duties. 
On  one  occasion,  when  the  floods  were  out,  he  exposed  his 
life  to  imminent  risk  rather  than  disappoint  a  rural  congre- 
gation which  was  in  expectation  of  a  discourse  from  the 
Bishop.  The  poverty  of  the  inferior  clergy  was  a  constant 
cause  of  uneasiness  to  his  kind  and  generous  heart.  He 
was  indefatigable  and  at  length  successful  in  his  attempts 
to  obtain  for  them  from  the  Crown  that  grant  which  is 
known  by  the  name  of  Queen  Anne's  Bounty.f  He  was 
especially  careful,  when  he  traveled  through  his  diocese, 
to  lay  no  burden  on  them.  Instead  of  requiring  them  to 
entertain  him,  he  entertained  them.     He  always  fixed  his 

*  Burnet,  ii.  8;  Birch's  Life  of  Tillotson;  Life  of  Kettlewell,  part  iii.  section  62. 

t  Swift,  writing  under  the  name  of  Gregory  Misosarum,  most  malignantly  and  dis- 
honestly represents  Burnet  as  grudging  this  grant  to  the  Church.  Swift  cannot  have 
been  ignorant  that  the  Church  was  indebted  for  the  grant  chiefly  to  Burnet's  persever- 
ing exertions. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


headquarters  at  a  market  town,  kept  a  table  there,  and,  by 
his  decent  hospitality  and  munificent  charities,  tried  to 
conciliate  those  who  were  prejudiced  against  his  doctrines. 
When  he  bestowed  a  poor  benefice, — and  he  had  many 
such  to  bestow, — his  practice  was  to  add  out  of  his  own 
purse  twenty  pounds  a  year  to  the  income.  Ten  promis- 
ing young  men,  to  each  of  whom  he  allowed  thirty  pounds 
a  year,  studied  divinity  under  his  own  eye  in  the  close  of 
Salisbury.  He  had  several  children:  but  he  did  not  think 
himself  justified  in  hoarding  for  them.  Their  mother  had 
brought  him  a  good  fortune.  With  that  fortune,  he 
always  said,  they  must  be  content.  He  would  not,  for 
their  sakes,  be  guilty  of  the  crime  of  raising  an  estate 
out  of  revenues  sacred  to  piety  and  charity.  Such  merits 
as  these  will,  m  the  judgment  of  wise  and  candid  men, 
appear  fully  to  atone  for  every  offence  which  can  be  justly 
imputed  to  him.* 

When  he  took  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords,  he  found 
that  assembly  busied  in  ecclesiastical  legislation.  A  states- 
man who  was  well  known  to  be  devoted  to  the  Church  had 
undertaken  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  dissenters.  No  sub- 
ject in  the  realm  occupied  so  important  and  commanding 
a  position  with  reference  to  religious  parties  as  Notting- 
ham. To  the  influence  derived  from  rank,  from  wealth, 
and  from  ofifice,  he  added  the  higher  influence  which  be- 
longs to  knowledge,  to  eloquence,  and  to  integrity.  The 
orthodoxy  of  his  creed,  the  regularity  of  his  devotions, 
and  the  purity  of  his  morals  gave  a  peculiar  weight  to  his 
opinions  on  questions  in  which  the  interests  of  Christi- 
anity were  concerned.  Of  all  the  ministers  of  the  new 
Sovereigns,  he  had  the  largest  share  of  the  confidence  of 
the  clergy.  Shrewsbury  was  certainly  a  Whig,  and  prob- 
ably a  freethinker:  he  had  lost  one  religion;  and  it  did  not 
VQry  clearly  appear  that  he  had  found  another.  Halifax 
had  been  during  many  years  accused  of  scepticism,  deism, 
atheism.  Danby's  attachment  to  episcopacy  and  the 
liturgy  was  rather  political  than  religious.  But  Notting- 
ham was  such  a  son  as  the  Church  was  proud  to  own. 
Propositions  therefore,  which,  if  made  by  his  colleagues, 

♦  See  the  life  of  Burnet,  at  the  end  of  the  second  volume  of  his  history,  his  manu- 
script memoirs,  Harl.  6584,  his  memorials  touching  the  First  Fruits  and  Tenths',  and 
Somers's  letter  to  him  on  that  subject.  See  also  what  Dr.  King,  Jacobite  as  he  was,  had 
the  justice  to  say  in  his  Anecdotes.  A  most  honorable  testimony  to  Burnet's  virtues, 
given  by  another  Jacobite  who  had  attacked  him  fiercely,  and  whom  he  had  treated  gen- 
erously, the  learned  and  upright  Thomas  Baker,  will  be  found  in  the  Gentleman's  Maj^- 
suine  for  August  and  September,  1791, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


63 


would  infallibly  produce  a  violent  panic  among  the  clergy, 
might,  if  made  by  him,  find  a  favorable  reception  even  in 
universities  and  chapter  houses.  The  friends  of  religious 
liberty  were  with  good  reason  desirous  to  obtain  his  co- 
operation; and,  up  to  a  certain  point,  he  was  not  unwill- 
ing to  co-operate  with  them.  He  was  decidedly  for  a 
toleration.  He  was  even  for  what  was  then  called  a  com- 
prehension: that  is  to  say,  he  was  desirous  to  make  some 
alterations  in  the  Anglican  discipline  and  ritual  for  the 
purpose  of  removing  the  scruples  of  the  moderate  Presby- 
terians. But  he  was  not  prepared  to  give  up  the  Test 
Act.  The  only  fault  which  he  found  with  that  Act  was 
that  it  was  not  sufficiently  stringent,  and  that  it  left  loop- 
holes through  which  schismatics  sometimes  crept  into  civil 
employments.  In  truth  it  was  because  he  was  not  dis- 
posed to  part  with  the  Test  that  he  was  willing  to  consent 
to  some  changes  in  the  Liturgy.  He  conceived  that,  if  the 
entrance  of  the  Church  were  but  a  very  little  widened, 
great  numbers  who  had  hitherto  lingered  near  the  thresh- 
old would  press  in.  Those  who  still  remained  without 
would  then  not  be  sufficiently  numerous  or  powerful  to 
extort  any  further  concession,  and  would  be  glad  to  com- 
pound for  a  bare  toleration.* 

The  opinion  of  the  Low  Churchmen  concerning  the  Test 
Act  differed  widely  from  his.  But  many  of  them  thought 
that  it  was  of  the  highest  importance  to  have  his  support 
on  the  great  questions  of  Toleration  and  Comprehension. 
From  the  scattered  fragments  of  information  which  have 
come  down  to  us,  it  appears  that  a  compromise  was  made. 
It  is  quite  certain  that  Nottingham  undertook  to  bring  in 
a  Toleration  Bill  and  a  Comprehension  Bill,  and  to  use 
his  best  endeavors  to  carry  both  bills  through  the  House 
of  Lords.  It  is  highly  probable  that,  in  return  for  this 
great  service,  some  of  the  leading  Whigs  consented  to  let 
the  Test  Act  remain  for  the  present  unaltered. 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  framing  either  the  Toleration 
Bill  or  the  Comprehension  Bill.  The  situation  of  the  dis- 
senters had  been  much  discussed  nine  or  ten  years  before, 
when  the  kingdom  was  distracted  by  the  fear  of  a  Popish 
plot,  and  when  there  was  among  Protestants  a  general  dis- 
position to  unite  against  the  common  enemy.  The  gov- 
ernment had  then  been  willing  to  make  large  concessions 

*  Oldmixon  would  have  us  believe  that  Nottingham  was  not,  at  this  time,  unwilling 
to.^ive  up  the  Test  Act.  But  Oldmixon's  assertion,  unsupported  by  evidence,  is  of  oo 
^^i^ht  whatever;  and  all  the  evidence  which  he  prodU5«s  ipakM  against  hisMMrlio^, 


64 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


to  the  Whig  party,  on  condition  that  the  crown  should  be 
suffered  to  descend  according  to  the  regular  course.  A 
draught  of  a  law  authorizing  the  public  worship  of  the 
non-conformists,  and  a  draught  of  a  law  making  some  alter- 
ations in  the  public  worship  of  the  Established  Church, 
had  been  prepared,  and  would  probably  have  been  passed 
by  both  Houses  without  difficulty,  had  not  Shaftesbury 
and  his  coadjutors  refused  to  listen  to  any  terms,  and,  by 
grasping  at  what  was  beyond  their  reach,  missed  advantages 
which  might  easily  have  been  secured.  In  the  framing  of 
these  draughts,  Nottingham,  then  an  active  member  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  had  borne  a  considerable  part.  He 
now  brought  them  forth  from  the  obscurity  in  which  they 
had  remained  since  the  dissolution  of  the  Oxford  Parlia- 
ment, and  laid  them,  with  some  slight  alterations,  on  the 
table  of  the  Lords.* 

The  Toleration  Bill  passed  both  Houses  with  little  debate. 
This  celebrated  statute,  long  considered  as  the  Great 
Charter  of  religious  liberty,  has  since  been  extensively 
modified,  and  is  hardly  known  to  the  present  generation 
except  by  name.  The  name,  however,  is  still  pronounced 
with  respect  by  many  who  will  perhaps  learn  with  surprise 
and  disappointment  the  real  nature  of  the  law  which  they 
have  been  accustomed  to  hold  in  honor. 

Several  statutes  which  had  been  passed  between  the 
accession  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  Revolution  required 
all  people  under  severe  penalties  to  attend  the  services  of 
the  Church  of  England,  and  to  abstain  from  attending 
conventicles.  The  Toleration  Act  did  not  repeal  any  of 
these  statutes,  but  merely  provided  that  they  should  not  be 
construed  to  extend  to  any  person  who  should  testify  his 
loyalty  by  taking  the  Oaths  of  Allegiance  and  Supremacy, 
and  his  Protestantism  by  subscribing  the  Declaration 
against  Transubstantiation. 

The  relief  thus  granted  was  common  between  the  dis- 
senting laity  and  the  dissenting  clergy.  But  the  dissent- 
ing clergy  had  some  peculiar  grievances.  The  Act  of  Uni- 
formity had  laid  a  mulct  of  a  hundred  pounds  on  every 
person  who,  not  having  received  episcopal  ordination, 
should  presume  to  administer  the  Eucharist.  The  Five 
Mile  Act  had  driven  many  pious  and  learned  ministers  from 

*  Burnet,  ii,  6;  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  March  i-ii,  1689;  King  William's 
Toleration,  being  an  explanation  of  that  liberty  of  conscience  which  may  be  expected 
from  His  Majesty's  Declaration,  with  a  Bill  for  Comprehension  and  Indulgence,  dri^wq 
up  in  order  to  an  Act  of  Pi<,rliament,  licensed  March  25,  i6S^. 


William  and  mary. 


their  houses  and  their  friends,  to  live  among  rustics  in  ob- 
scure villages  of  v^hich  the  name  was  not  to  be  seen  on  the 
map.  The  Conventicle  Act  had  imposed  heavy  fines  on 
divines  who  should  preach  in  any  meeting  of  separatists; 
and,  in  direct  opposition  to  the  humane  spirit  of  our  law, 
the  courts  were  enjoined  to  construe  this  act  largely  and 
beneficially  for  the  suppressing  of  dissent  and  for  the 
encouraging  of  informers.  These  severe  statutes  were  not 
repealed,  but  were,  with  many  conditions  and  precautions, 
relaxed.  It  was  provided  that  every  dissenting  minister 
should,  before  he  exercised  his  function,  profess  under  his 
hand  his  belief  in  the  Articles  of  the  Church  of  England, 
with  a  few  exceptions.  The  propositions  to  which  he  was 
not  required  to  assent  were  these;  that  the  Church  has 
power  to  regulate  ceremonies;  that  the  doctrines  set  forth 
in  the  Book  of  Homilies  are  sound;  and  that  there  is  noth- 
ing superstitious  or  idolatrous  in  the  ordination  service. 
If  he  declared  himself  a  Baptist,  he  was  also  excused  from 
affirming  that  the  baptism  of  infants  is  a  laudable  prac- 
tice. But,  unless  his  conscience  suffered  him  to  subscribe 
thirty-four  of  the  thirty-nine  Articles,  and  the  greater  part 
of  two  other  Articles,  he  could  not  preach  without  incur- 
'ring  all  the  punishments  which  the  Cavaliers,  in  the  day 
of  their  power  and  their  vengeance,  had  devised  for  the 
tormenting  and  ruining  of  schismatical  teachers. 

The  situation  of  the  Quaker  differed  from  that  of  other 
dissenters,  and  differed  for  the  worse.  The  Presbyterian, 
the  Independent,  and  the  Baptist  had  no  scruple  about  the 
Oath  of  Supremacy.  But  the  Quaker  refused  to  take  it, 
not  because  he  objected  to  the  proposition  that  foreign 
sovereigns  and  prelates  have  no  jurisdiction  in  England, 
but  because  his  conscience  would  not  suffer  him  to  swear 
to  any  proposition  whatever.  He  was  therefore  exposed 
to  the  severity  of  part  of  that  penal  code  which,  long  be- 
fore Quakerism  existed,  had  been  enacted  against  Roman 
Catholics  by  the  Parliaments  of  Elizabeth.  Soon  after  the 
Restoration,  a  severe  law,  distinct  from  the  general  law 
which  applied  to  all  conventicles,  had  been  passed  against 
meetings  of  Quakers.  The  Toleration  Act  permitted  the 
members  of  this  harmless  sect  to  hold  their  assemblies  in 
peace,  on  condition  of  signing  three  documents,  a  declara- 
tion against  Transubstantiation,  a  promise  of  fidelity  to  the 
government,  and  a  confession  of  Christian  belief.  The 
objections  which  the  Quaker  had  to  the  Athanasian  phrase- 


66 


ttlSTORV  or  ENGLAND. 


ology  had  brought  on  him  the  imputation  of  Socinianism: 
and  the  strong  language  in  which  he  sometimes  asserted 
that  he  derived  his  knowledge  of  spiritual  things  directly 
from  above  had  raised  a  suspicion  that  he  thought  lightly 
of  the  authority  of  Scripture.  He  was  therefore  required 
to  profess  his  faith  in  the  divinity  of  the  Son  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments. 

Such  were  the  terms  on  which  the  Protestant  dissenters 
of  England  were,  for  the  first  time,  permitted  by  law  to 
worship  God  according  to  their  own  conscience.  They 
were  very  properly  forbidden  to  assemble  with  barred 
doors,  but  were  protected  against  hostile  intrusion  by  a 
clause  which  made  it  penal  to  enter  a  meeting-house  for 
the  purpose  of  molesting  the  congregation. 

As  if  the  numerous  limitations  and  precautions  which 
have  been  mentioned  were  insufficient,  it  was  emphatically 
declared  that  the  legislature  did  not  intend  to  grant  the 
smallest  indulgence  to  any  Papist,  or  to  any  person  who 
denied  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  as  that  doctrine  is  set 
forth  in  the  formularies  of  the  Church  of  England. 

Of  all  the  Acts  that  have  ever  been  passed  by  Parlia- . 
ment,  the  Toleration  Act  is  perhaps  that  which  most  strik- 
ingly illustrates  the  peculiar  vices  and  the  peculiar  excel- 
lences of  English  legislation.  The  science  of  Politics 
bears  in  one  respect  a  close  analogy  to  the  science  of 
Mechanics.  The  mathematician  can  easily  demonstrate 
that  a  certain  power,  applied  by  means  of  a  certain  lever 
or  of  a  certain  system  of  pulleys,  will  suffice  to  raise  a  cer- 
tain weight.  But  his  demonstration  proceeds  on  the  sup- 
position that  the  machinery  is  such  as  no  load  will  bend 
or  break.  If  the  engineer,  who  has  to  lift  a  great  mass  of 
real  granite  by  the  instrumentality  of  real  timber  and  real 
hemp,  should  absolutely  rely  on  the  propositions  which  he 
finds  in  treatises  on  Dynamics,  and  should  make  no  allow- 
ance for  the  imperfection  of  his  materials,  his  whole  ap- 
paratus of  beams,  wheels,  and  ropes  would  soon  come 
down  in  ruin,  and,  with  all  his  geometrical  skill,  he  would 
be  found  a  far  inferior  builder  to  those  painted  barbarians 
who,  though  they  never  heard  of  the  parallelogram  of 
forces,  managed  to  pile  up  Stonehenge.  What  the  engin- 
eer is  to  the  mathematician,  the  active  statesman  is  to  the 
contemplative  statesman.  It  is  indeed  most  important 
that  legislators  and  administrators  should  be  versed  in  the 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


67 


philosophy  of  government,  as  it  is  most  important  that  the 
architect,  who  has  to  fix  an  obelisk  on  its  pedestal,  or  to 
hang  a  tubular  bridge  over  an  estuary,  should  be  versed 
in  the  philosophy  of  equilibrium  and  motion.  But,  as  he 
who  has  actually  to  build  must  bear-in  mind  many  things 
never  noticed  by  D'Alembert  and  Euler,  so  must  he  who 
has  actually  to  govern  be  perpetually  guided  by  considera- 
tions to  which  no  allusion  can  be  found  in  the  writings  of 
Adam  Smith  or  Jeremy  Bentham.  The  perfect  lawgiver 
is  a  just  temper  between  the  mere  man  of  theory,  who  can 
see  nothing  but  general  principles,  and  the  mere  man  of 
business,  who  can  see  nothing  but  particular  circum- 
stances. Of  lawgivers  in  whom  the  speculative  element 
has  prevailed  to  the  exclusion  of  the  practical,  the  world 
has  during  the  last  eighty  years  been  singularly  fruitful. 
To  their  wisdom  Europe  and  America  have  owed  scores  of 
abortive  constitutions,  scores  of  constitutions  which  have 
lived  just  long  enough  to  make  a  miserable  noise,  and  have 
then  gone  off  in  convulsions.  But  in  English  legislation 
the  practical  element  has  always  predominated,  and  not 
seldom  unduly  predominated,  over  the  speculative.  To 
think  nothing  of  symmetry  and  much  of  convenience; 
never  to  remove  an  anomoly  merely  because  it  is  an  anom- 
oly;  never  to  innovate  except  when  some  grievance  is  felt; 
never  to  innovate  except  so  far  as  to  get  rid  of  the  griev- 
ance; never  to  lay  down  any  proposition  of  wider  extent 
than  the  particular  case  for  which  it  is  necessary  to  pro- 
vide; these  are  the  rules  which  have  from  the  age  of  John 
to  the  age  of  Victoria,  generally  guided  the  deliberations  of 
our  two  hundred  and  fifty  Parliaments.  Our  national  dis- 
taste for  whatever  is  abstract  in  political  science  amounts 
undoubtedly  to  a  fault.  Yet  it  is,  perhaps,  a  fault  on  the 
right  side.  That  we  have  been  far  too  slow  to  improve  our 
laws  must  be  admitted.  But,  though  in  other  countries 
there  may  have  occasionally  been  more  rapid  progress,  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  name  any  other  country  in  which 
there  has  been  so  little  retrogression. 

The  Toleration  Act  approaches  very  near  to  the  idea  of  a 
great  English  law.  To  a  jurist,  versed  in  the  theory  of 
legislation,  but  not  intimately  acquainted  with  the  temper 
of  the  sects  and  parties  into  which  the  nation  was  divided 
at  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  that  Act  would  seem  to  be 
a  mere  chaos  of  absurdities  and  contradictions.  It  will  not 
bear  to  be  tried  by  sound  general  principles.    Nay,  it  will 


68 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


not  bear  to  be  tried  by  any  principle,  sound  or  unsound. 
The  sound  principle  undoubtedly  is,  that  mere  theological 
error  ought  not  to  be  punished  by  the  civil  magistrate. 
This  principle  the  Toleration  Act  not  only  does  not  recog- 
nize, but  positively  disclaims.  Not  a  single  one  of  the  cruel 
laws  enacted  against  non-conformists  by  the  Tudors  or  the 
Stuarts  is  repealed.  Persecution  continues  to  be  the  gen- 
eral rule.  Toleration  is  the  exception.  Nor  is  this  all. 
The  freedom  which  is  given  to  conscience  is  given  in 
the  most  capricious  manner.  A  Quaker,  by  making  a 
declaration  of  faith  in  general  terms,  obtains  the  full 
benefit  of  the  Act  without  signing  one  of  the  thirty- 
nine  Articles.  An  Independent  minister,  -  who  is  per- 
fectly willing  to  make  the  declaration  required  from  the 
Quaker,  but  who  has  doubts  about  six  or  seven  of  the 
Articles,  remains  still  subject  to  the  penal  laws.  Howe  is 
liable  to  punishment  if  he  preaches  before  he  has  solemnly 
declared  his  assent  to  the  Anglican  doctrine  touching  the 
Eucharist.  Penn,  who  altogether  rejects  the  Eucharist,  is 
at  perfect  liberty  to  preach  without  making  any  declaration 
whatever  on  the  subject. 

These  are  some  of  the  obvious  faults  which  must  strike 
every  person  who  examines  the  Toleration  Act  by  that 
standard  of  just  reason  which  is  the  same  in  all  countries 
and  in  all  ages.  But  these  very  faults  may  perhaps  appear 
to  be  merits,  when  we  take  into  consideration  the  passions 
and  prejudices  of  those  for  whom  the  Toleration  Act  was 
framed.  This  law,  abounding  with  contradictions  which 
every  smattererin  political  philosophy  can  detect,  did  what 
a  law  framed  by  the  utmost  skill  of  the  greatest  masters 
of  political  philosophy  might  have  failed  to  do.  That  the 
provisions  which  have  been  recapitulated  are  cumbrous, 
puerile,  inconsistent  with  each  other,  inconsistent  with  the 
true  theory  of  religious  liberty,  must  be  acknowledged. 
All  that  can  be  said  in  their  defence  is  this;  that  they  re- 
moved a  vast  mass  of  evil  without  shocking  a  vast  mass  of 
prejudice;  that  they  put  an  end,  at  once  and  forever,  without 
one  division  in  either  House  of  Parliament,  without  one  riot 
in  the  streets,  with  scarcely  one  audible  murmur  even  from 
the  classes  most  deeply  tainted  with  bigotry,  to  a  persecu- 
tion which  raged  during  four  generations,  which  had  broken 
innumerable  hearts,  which  had  made  innumerable  firesides 
desolate,  which  had  filled  the  prisons  with  men  of  whom 
the  world  was  not  worthy,  which  had  driven  thousands  of 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


69 


those  honest,diligent,  and  god-fearing  yeomen  and  artisans, 
who  are  the  true  strength  of  a  nation,  to  seek  a  refuge  be- 
yond the  ocean  among  the  wigwams  of  red  Indians  and  the 
lairs  of  panthers.  Such  a  defence,  however  weak  it  may 
appear  to  some  shallow  speculators,  will  probably  be 
thought  complete  by  statesmen. 

The  English,  in  I689,  were  by  no  means  disposed  to  ad- 
mit the  doctrine  that  religious  error  ought  to  be  left 
unpunished.  That  doctrine  was  just  then  more  unpopular 
than  it  had  ever  been.  For  it  had,  only  a  few  months  before, 
been  hypocritically  put  forward  as  a  pretext  for  perse- 
cuting the  Established  Church,  for  trampling  on  the  funda- 
mental laws  of  the  realm,  for  confiscating  freeholds,  for 
treating  as  a  crime  the  modest  exercise  of  the  right  of  pe- 
tition. If  a  bill  had  then  been  drawn  up  granting  entire 
freedom  of  conscience  to  all  Protestants,  it  may  be  confi- 
dently affirmed  that  Nottingham  would  never  have  intro- 
duced such  a  bill;  that  all  the  bishops,  Burnet  included, 
would  have  voted  against  it;  that  it  would  have  been  de- 
nounced Sunday  after  Sunday,  from  ten  thousand  pulpits, 
as  an  insult  to  God  and  to  all  Christian  men,  and  as  a 
license  to  the  worst  heretics  and  blasphemers;  that  it  would 
have  been  condemned  almost  as  vehemently  by  Bates  and 
Baxter  as  by  Ken  and  Sherlock;  that  it  would  have  been 
burned  by  the  mob  in  half  the  market  places  of  England; 
that  it  would  never  have  become  the  law  of  the  land,  and 
that  it  would  have  made  the  very  name  of  toleration  odious 
during  many  years  to  the  great  majority  of  the  people. 
And  yet,  if  such  a  bill  had  been  passed,  what  would  it  have 
effected  beyond  what  was  effected  by  the  Toleration  Act? 

It  is  true  that  the  Toleration  Act  recognized  persecution 
as  the  rule,  and  granted  liberty  of  conscience  only  as  the 
exception.  But  it  is  equally  true  that  the  rule  remained  in 
force  only  against  a  few  hundreds  of  Protestant  dissent- 
ers, and  that  the  benefit  of  the  exceptions  extended  to 
hundreds  of  thousands. 

It  is  true  that  it  was  in  theory  absurd  to  make  Howe 
sign  thirty-four  or  thirty-five  of  the  Anglican  Articles  be- 
fore he  could  preach,  and  to  let  Penn  preach  without  sign- 
ing one  of  those  Articles.  But  it  is  equally  true  that  under 
this  arrangement  both  Howe  and  Penn  got  as  entire  liberty 
to  preach  as  they  could  have  had  under  the  most  philo- 
sophical code  that  Beccaria  or  Jefferson  could  have  framed. 

The  progress  of  the  bill  was  easy.    Only  one  amend- 


70 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


ment  of  grave  importance  was  proposed.  Some  zealous 
churchmen  in  the  Commons  suggested  that  it  might  be 
desirable  to  grant  the  toleration  only  for  a  term  of  seven 
years,  and  thus  to  bind  over  the  non-conformists  to  good 
behavior.  But  this  suggestion  was  so  unfavorably  re- 
ceived that  those  who  made  it  did  not  venture  to  divide 
the  House.* 

The  King  gave  his  consent  with  hearty  satisfaction:  the 
bill  became  law;  and  the  Puritan  divines  thronged  to  the 
Quarter  Sessions  of  every  county  to  swear  and  sign.  Many 
of  them  probably  professed  their  assent  to  the  Articles 
with  some  tacit  reservations.  But  the  tender  conscience 
of  Baxter  would  not  suffer  him  to  qualify,  till  he  had  put 
on  record  an  explanation  of  the  sense  in  which  he  under- 
stood every  proposition  which  seemed  to  him  to  admit  of 
misconstruction.  The  instrument  delivered  by  him  to  the 
court  before  which  he  took  the  oaths  is  still  extant,  and 
contains  two  passages  of  peculiar  interest.  He  declared 
that  his  approbation  of  the  Athanasian  Creed  was  confined 
to  that  part  which  was  properly  a  Creed,  and  that  he  did 
not  mean  to  express  any  assent  to  the  damnatory  clauses. 
He  also  declared  that  he  did  not,  by  signing  the  article 
which  anathematizes  all  who  maintain  that  there  is  any 
other  salvation  than  through  Christ,  mean  to  condemn 
those  who  entertain  a  hope  that  sincere  and  virtuous  un- 
believers may  be  admitted  to  partake  in  the  benefits  of 
Redemption.  Many  of  the  dissenting  clergy  of  London 
expressed  their  concurrence  in  these  charitable  sentiments. f 

The  history  of  the  Comprehension  Bill  presents  a  re- 
markable contrast  to  the  history  of  the  Toleration  Bill. 
The  two  bills  had  a  com-mon  origin,  and,  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, a  common  object.  They  were  framed  at  the  same 
time,  and  laid  aside  at  the  same  time:  they  sank  together 
into  oblivion,  and  they  were,  after  the  lapse  of  several 
years,  again  brought  together  before  the  world.  Both 
were  laid  by  the  same  peer  on  the  table  of  the  Upper 
House;  and  both  were  referred  to  the  same  select  commit- 
tee. But  it  soon  began  to  appear  that  they  would  have 
widely  different  fates.  The  Comprehension  Bill  was  in- 
deed a  neater  specimen  of  legislative  workmanship  than 
the  Toleration  Bill,  but  was  not,  like  the  Toleration  Bill, 
adapted  to  the  wants,  the    feelings,  and    the  prejudi- 

*  Common's  Journals,  May  17,  1689. 

t  Sense  of  the  subscribed  articles  by  the  Ministers  of  London,  1690;  Calamy's  Histori- 
cal Additions  to  Baxter's  Life.  . 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


Ces  of  the  existing  generation.  Accordingly  while  the 
Toleration  Bill  found  support  in  all  quarters,  the  Com- 
prehension Bill  was  attacked  from  all  quarters,  and 
was  at  last  coldly  and  languidly  defended  even  by  those 
who  had  introduced  it.  About  the  same  time  at  which  the 
Toleration  Bill  became  law  with  the  general  concurrence 
of  public  men,  the  Comprehension  Bill  was,  with  a  concur- 
rence not  less  general,  suffered  to  drop.  The  Toleration 
Bill  still  ranks  among  those  great  statutes  which  are  epochs 
in  our  constitutional  history.  The  Comprehension  Bill  is 
forgotten.  No  collector  of  antiquities  has  thought  it 
worth  preserving.  A  single  copy,  the  same  which  Notting- 
ham presented  to  the  Peers,  is  still  among  our  parliamen- 
tary records,  but  has  been  seen  by  only  two  or  three  per- 
sons now  living.  It  is  a  fortunate  circumstance  that,  in 
this  copy,  almost  the  whole  history  of  the  Bill  can  be  read. 
In  spite  of  cancellations  and  interlineations,  the  original 
words  can  easily  be  distinguished  from  those  which  were 
inserted  in  the  committee  or  on  the  report.* 

The  first  clause,  as  it  stood  when  the  bill  was  introduced, 
dispensed  all  the  ministers  of  the  Established  Church  from 
the  necessity  of  subscribing  the  Thirty-nine  Articles.  For 
the  Articles  was  substituted  a  Declaration  which  ran  thus: 
"  I  do  approve  of  the  doctrine  and  worship  and  govern, 
ment  of  the  Church  of  England  by  law  established,  as 
containing  all  things  necessary  to  salvation;  and  T  promise, 
in  the  exercise  of  my  ministry,  to  preach  and  practice  ac- 
cording thereunto.'*  Another  clause  granted  similar  in- 
dulgence to  the  members  of  the  two  universities. 

Then  it  was  provided  that  any  minister  who  had  been 
ordained  after  the  Presbyterian  fashion  might,  without  re■^ 
ordination,  acquire  all  the  privileges  of  a  priest  of  the  Es- 
tablished Church.  He  must,  however,  be  admitted  to  hia 
new  functions  by  the  imposition  of  the  hands  of  a  bishop, 
who  was  to  pronounce  the  following  form  of  words: 
"  Take  thou  authority  to  preach  the  word  of  God,  and  ad- 
minister the  sacraments,  and  to  perform  all  other  minis- 
terial offices  in  the  Church  of  England."  The  person  thus 
admitted  was  to  be  capable  of  holding  any  rectory  or  vicar- 
age in  the  kingdom. 

♦  The  bill  will  be  found  among  the  Archives  of  the  House  of  Lords.  It  is  strange 
that  this  vast  collection  of  important  documents  should  have  been  altogetherneglected, 
even  by  our  most  exact  and  diligent  historians.  It  was  opened  to  me  by  one  of  the 
most  valued  of  my  friends,  Sir  John  Lefevre;  and  my  researches  were  greatly  assisted  by 
the  kindness  of  Mr.  Thorns. 


72 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


Then  followed  clauses  providing  that  a  clergyman  might, 
except  in  a  few  churches  of  peculiar  dignity,  wear  the  sur-^ 
plice  or  not  as  he  thought  fit,  that  the  sign  of  the  cross 
might  be  omitted  in  baptism,  that  children  might  be 
christened,  if  such  were  the  wish  of  their  parents,  without 
godfathers  or  godmothers,  and  that  persons  who  had  a 
scruple  about  receiving  the  Eucharist  kneeling  might  re- 
ceive it  sitting. 

The  concluding  clause  was  drawn  in  the  form  of  a  peti- 
tion. It  was  proposed  that  the  two  Houses  should 
request  the  King  and  Queen  to  issue  a  commission  em- 
powering thirty  divines  of  the  Established  Church  to  re- 
vise the  liturgy,  the  canons,  and  the  constitution  of  the 
ecclesiastical  courts,  and  to  recommend  such  alterations  as 
might  on  inquiry  appear  to  be  desirable. 

The  bill  went  smoothly  through  the  first  stages.  Comp- 
ton,  who,  since  Bancroft  had  shut  himself  up  at  Lambeth, 
was  virtually  Primate,  supported  Nottingham  with  ardor. 
In  the  committee,  however,  it  appeared  that  there  was  a 
strong  body  of  churchmen,  who  were  as  obstinately  deter- 
mined not  to  give  up  a  single  word  or  form  as  if  they  had 
thought  that  prayers  were  no  prayers  if  read  without  the  sur- 
plice, that  a  babe  could  be  no  Christian  if  not  marked  with  the 
cross,  that  bread  and  wine  could  be  no  memorials  of  re- 
demption or  vehicles  of  grace  if  not  received  on 
bended  knee.  Why,  those  persons  asked,  was  the  do- 
cile and  affectionate  son  of  the  Church  to  be  disgusted 
by  seeing  the  irreverent  practices  of  a  conventicle 
introduced  into  her  majestic  choirs  ?  Why  should 
his  feelings,  his  prejudices,  if  prejudices  they  were, 
be  less  considered  than  the  whims  of  schismatics  ? 
If,  as  Burnet  and  men  like  Burnet  were  never  weary  of  re- 
peating, indulgence  was  due  to  a  weak  brother,  was  it  less 
due  to  the  brother  whose  weakness  consisted  in  the  excess 
of  his  love  for  an  ancient,  a  decent,  a  beautiful  ritual,  asso- 
ciated in  his  imagination  from  childhood  with  all  that  is 
most  sublime  and  endearing,  than  to  him  whose  morose 
and  litigious  mind  was  always  devising  frivolous  objec- 
tions to  innocent  and  salutary  usages  ?  But  in  truth,  the 
scrupulosity  of  the  Puritan  was  not  that  sort  of  scrupu- 

*  Among  the  Tanner  MSB.  in  the  Bodleian  Library  is  a  very  curious  letter  from 
Compton  to  Bancroft,  about  the  Toleration  Bill  and  the  Comprehension  Bill.  "These," 
says  Compton,  "are  two  great  works  in  which  the  being  of  our  Church  is  concerned; 
and  I  hope  you  will  send  to  the  House  for  copies.  For  though  we  are  under  a  conquest, 
God  has  given  us  favor  in  the  eyes  of  our  rulers;  and  we  may  keep  our  Church  if  we 
will."   Bancroft  seems  to  have  returned  no  answer. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


73 


losity  which  the  Apostle  had  commanded  believers  to  re- 
spect. It  sprang,  not  from  morbid  tenderness  of  con- 
science, but  from  censoriousness  and  spiritual  pride;  and 
none  who  had  studied  the  New  Testament  could  have 
failed  to  observe  that,  while  we  are  charged  carefully  to 
avoid  whatever  may  give  scandal  to  the  feeble,  we  are 
taught  by  divine  precept  and  example  to  make  no  conces- 
sion to  the  supercilious  and  uncharitable  Pharisee.  Was 
everything  which  was  not  of  the  essence  of  religion  to  be 
given  up  as  soon  as  it  became  unpleasing  to  a  knot  of  zeal- 
ots whose  heads  had  been  turned  by  conceit  and  the  love 
of  novelty  ?  Painted  glass,  music,  holidays,  fast  days, 
were  not  of  the  essence  of  religion.  Were  the  windows  of 
King's  College  chapel  to  be  broken  at  the  demand  of  one 
set  of  fanatics  ?  Was  the  organ  of  Exeter  to  be  silenced 
to  please  another?  Were  all  the  village  bells  to  be  mute 
because  Tribulation  Wholesome  and  Deacon  Ananias 
thought  them  profane  ?  Was  Christmas  no  longer  to  be  a 
day  of  rejoicing  ?  Was  Passion  week  no  longer  to  be  a 
season  of  humiliation  ?  These  changes,  it  is  true,  were 
not  yet  proposed.  But  if, — so  the  High  Churchmen 
reasoned, — we  once  admit  that  what  is  harmless  and  edify- 
ing is  to  be  given  up  because  it  offends  some  narrow  un- 
derstandings and  some  gloomy  tempers,  where  are  we  to 
stop?  And  is  it  not  probable  that,  by  thus  attempting  to 
heal  one  schism^  we  may  cause  another?  All  those  things 
which  the  Puritans  regard  as  the  blemishes  of  the  Church 
are  by  a  large  part  of  the  population  reckoned  among  her 
attractions.  May  she  not,  in  ceasing  to  give  scandal  to  a 
few  sour  precisians,  cease  also  to  influence  the  hearts  of 
many  who  now  delight  in  her  ordinances  ?  Is  it  not  to  be 
apprehended  that,  for  every  proselyte  whom  she  allures 
from  the  meeting-house,  ten  of  her  old  disciples  may  turn 
away  from  her  maimed  rites  and  dismantled  temples,  and 
that  these  new  separatists  may  either  form  themselves 
into  a  sect  far  more  formidable  than  the  sect  which  we  are 
now  seeking  to  conciliate,  or  may,  in  the  violence  of  their 
disgust  at  a  cold  and  ignoble  worship,  be  tempted  to  join 
in  the  solemn  and  gorgeous  idolatry  of  Rome  ? 

It  is  remarkable  that  those  who  held  this  language  were 
by  no  means  disposed  to  contend  for  the  doctrinal  Articles 
of  the  Church.  The  truth  is  that,  from  the  time  of  James 
the  First,  that  great  party  which  has  been  peculiarly  zeal- 
cms  for  the  Anglican  polity  and  the  Anglican  ritual  has 


^4  HISTORY  OF  £NGtANt). 

always  leaned  strongly  towards  Arminianism,  and  has  there- 
fore never  been  much  attached  to  a  confession  of  faith 
framed  by  reformers  who,  on  questions  of  metaphysical 
divinity,  generally  agreed  with  Calvin.  One  of  the  char- 
acteristic marks  of  that  party  is  the  disposition  which  it 
has  always  shown  to  appeal,  on  points  of  dogmatic  theology, 
rather  to  the  Liturgy,  which  was  derived  from  Rome,  than 
to  the  Articles,  and  Homilies,  which  were  derived  from 
Geneva.  The  Calvinistic  members  of  the  Church,  on  the 
other  hand,  have  always  maintained  that  her  deliberate 
judgment  on  such  points  is  much  more  likely  to  be  found 
in  an  Article  or  a  Homily  than  in  an  ejaculation  of  peni- 
tence or  hymn  of  thanksgiving.  It  does  not  appear  that, 
in  the  debates  on  the  Comprehension  Bill,  a  single  High 
Churchman  raised  his  voice  against  the  clause  which  re- 
lieved the  clergy  from  the  necessity  of  subscribing  the 
Articles,  and  of  declaring  the  doctrine  contained  in  the 
Homilies  to  be  sound.  Na^,  the  Declaration,  which,  in  the 
original  draught,  was  substituted  for  the  Articles,  was 
much  softened  down  on  the  report.  As  the  clause  finally 
stood,  the  ministers  of  the  Church  were  required,  not  to 
profess  that  they  approved  of  her  doctrine,  but  merely  to 
acknowledge,  what  probably  few  Baptists,  Quakers,  or 
Unitarians  would  deny,  that  her  doctrine  contained  all 
things  necessary  to  salvation.  Had  the  bill  become  law, 
the  only  people  in  the  kingdom  who  would  have  been  under 
the  necessity  of  signing  the  Articles  would  have  been  the 
dissenting  preachers.* 

The  easy  manner  in  which  the  zealous  friends  of  the 
Church  gave  up  her  confession  of  faith  presents  a  striking 
contrast  to  the  spirit  with  which  they  struggled  for  her 
polity  and  her  ritual.  The  clause  which  admitted  Pres- 
byterian ministers  to  hold  benefices  without  episcopal  or- 
dination was  rejected.  The  clause  which  permitted  scrupu- 
lous persons  to  communicate  sitting,  very  narrowly  escaped 
the  same  fate.  In  the  Committee  it  was  struck  out,  and, 
on  the  report,  was  with  great  difficulty  restored.  The 
majority  of  peers  in  the  House  was  against  the  proposed 
indulgence,  and  the  scale  was  but  just  turned  by  the 
proxies. 

But  by  this  time  it  began  to  appear  that  the  bill  which  the 
High  Churchmen  were  so  keenly  assailing  was  menaced  by 


*  The  distaste  of  the  High  Churchmen  for  the  Articles  is  the  subject  of  a  carious 
pamphlet  published  in  1689,  and  entitled  a  Dialogue  between  Timothy  and  Titus, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


75 


dangers  from  a  very  different  quarter.  The  same  consid- 
erations which  had  induced  Nottingham  to  support  a  com- 
prehension made  comprehension  an  object  of  dread  and 
aversion  to  a  large  body  of  dissenters.  The  truth  is  that 
the  time  for  such  a  scheme  had  gone  by.  If,  a  hundred 
years  earlier,  when  the  division  in  the  Protestant  body  was 
recent,  Elizabeth  had  been  so  wise  as  to  abstain  from  re- 
quiring the  observance  of  a  few  forms  which  a  large  part 
jf  her  subjects  considered  as  Popish,  she  might  perhaps 
have  averted  those  fearful  calamities  which,  forty  years 
after  her  death,  afflicted  the  Church.  But  the  general 
tendency  of  schism  is  to  widen.  Had  Leo  the  Tenth, 
when  the  exactions  and  impostures  of  the  Pardoners  first 
roused  the  indignation  of  Saxony,  corrected  those  evil  prac- 
tices with  a  vigorous  hand,  it  is  not  improbable  that  Luther 
would  have  died  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 
But  the  opportunity  was  suffered  to  escape;  and,  when,  a 
few  years  later,  the  Vatican  would  gladly  have  purchased 
peace  by  yielding  the  original  subject  of  quarrel,  the  orig- 
inal subject  of  quarrel  was  almost  forgotten.  The  inquiring 
spirit  which  had  been  roused  by  a  single  abuse  had  dis- 
covered or  imagined  a  thousand:  controversies  engendered 
controversies:  every  attempt  that  was  made  to  accommo- 
date one  dispute  ended  by  producing  another;  and  at 
length  the  General  Council, which,  during  the  earlier  stages 
of  the  distemper,  had  been  supposed  to  be  an  infallible 
remedy,  made  the  case  utterly  hopeless.  In  this  respect, 
as  in  many  others,  the  history  of  Puritanism  in  England 
bears  a  close  analogy  to  the  history  of  Protestantism  in 
Europe.  The  Parliament  of  1689  could  no  more  put  an 
end  to  non-conformity  by  tolerating  a  garb  or  a  posture 
than  the  Doctors  of  Trent  could  have  reconciled  the  Teu- 
tonic nations  to  the  Papacy  by  regulating  the  sale  of  indul- 
gences. In  the  sixteenth  century  Quakerism  was  unknown; 
and  there  was  not  in  the  whole  realm  a  single  congrega- 
tion of  Independents  or  Baptists.  At  the  time  of  the 
Revolution,  the  Independents,  Baptists,  and  Quakers  were 
probably  a  majority  of  the  dissenting  body;  and  these 
sects  could  not  be  gained  over  on  any  terms  which  the 
lowest  of  Low  Churchmen  would  have  been  willing  to 
offer.  The  Independent  held  that  a  national  Church,  gov- 
erned by  any  central  authority  whatever,  Pope,  Patriarch, 
King,  Bishop  or  Synod,  was  an  unscriptural  institution, 
and  that  every  congregation  of  believers  was,  under  Christy, 


76 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


a  sovereign  society.  The  Baptist  was  even  more  irreclaim- 
able than  the  Independent,  and  the  Quaker  even  more  irre- 
claimable than  the  Baptist.  Concessions,  therefore,  which 
would  once  have  extinguished  non-conformity,  would  not 
now  satisfy  even  one  half  of  the  non-conformists;  and  it 
was  the  obvious  interest  of  every  non-conformist  whom  no 
concession  would  satisfy  that  none  of  his  brethren  should 
be  satisfied.  The  more  liberal  the  terms  of  comprehen- 
sion, the  greater  was  the  alarm  of  every  separatist  who 
knew  that  he  could,  in  no  case,  be  comprehended.  There 
was  but  slender  hope  that  the  dissenters,  unbroken  and 
acting  as  one  man,  would  be  able  to  obtain  from  the  legis- 
lature full  admission  to  civil  privileges;  and  all  hope  of 
obtaining  such  admission  must  be  relinquished  if  Notting- 
ham should,  by  the  help  of  some  well-meaning  but  short- 
sighted friends  of  religious  liberty,  be  enabled  to  accom- 
plish his  design.  If  his  bill  passed,  there  would  doubtless 
be  a  considerable  defection  from  the  dissenting  body;  and 
every  defection  must  be  severely  felt  by  a  class  already  out- 
numbered, depressed,  and  struggling  against  powerful 
enemies.  Every  proselyte  too  must  be  reckoned  twice  over, 
as  a  loss  to  the  party  which  was  even  now  too  weak,  and 
as  a  gain  to  the  party  which  was  even  now  too  strong. 
The  Church  was  but  too  well  able  to  hold  her  own  against 
all  the  sects  in  the  kingdom;  and,  if  those  sects  were  to  be 
thinned  by  a  large  desertion,  and  the  Church  strengthened 
by  a  large  reinforcement,  it  was  plain  that  all  chance  of 
obtaining  any  relaxation  of  the  Test  Act  would  be  at  an 
end;  and  it  was  but  too  probable  that  the  Toleration  Act 
might  not  long  remain  unrepealed. 

Even  those  Presbyterian  ministers  whose  scruples  the 
Comprehension  Bill  was  especially  intended  to  remove 
were  by  no  means  unanimous  in  wishing  it  to  pass.  The 
ablest  and  most  eloquent  preachers  among  them  had,  since 
the  Declaration  of  Indulgence  had  appeared,  been  very  ; 
agreeably  settled  in  the  capital  and  in  other  large  towns,  ■ 
and  were  now  about  to  enjoy,  under  the  sure  guarantee  of  ' 
an  Act  of  Parliament,  that  toleration  which,  under  the 
Declaration  of  Indulgence,  had  been  illicit  and  precarious. 
The  situation  of  these  men  was  such  as  the  great  majority 
of  the  divines  of  the  Established  Church  might  well  envy. 
Few  indeed  of  the  parochial  clergy  were  so  abundantly 
supplied  with  comforts  as  the  favorite  orator  of  a  great 
assembly  of  non-conformists  in  the  City.    The  voluntary 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


77 


contributions  of  his  wealthy  hearers,  Aldermen  and  Depu- 
ties, West  India  merchants  and  Turkey  merchants.  Wardens 
of  the  Company  of  Fishmongers  and  Wardens  of  the  Com- 
pany of  Goldsmiths,  enabled  him  to  become  a  land-owner  or 
a  mortgagee.  The  best  broadcloth  from  Blackwell  Hall,  and 
the  best  poultry  from  Leadenhall  Market,  were  frequently 
left  at  his  door.  His  influence  over  his  flock  was  immense. 
Scarcely  any  member  of  a  congregation  of  separatists  en- 
tered into  a  partnership,  married  a  daughter,  put  a  son  out 
as  apprentice,  or  gave  his  vote  at  an  election,  without  con- 
sulting his  spiritual  guide.  On  all  political  and  literary 
questions  the  minister  was  the  oracle  of  his  own  circle.  It 
was  popularly  remarked,  during  many  years,  that  an  emi- 
nent dissenting  minister  had  only  to  determine  whether 
he  would  make  his  son  an  attorney  or  a  physician;  for  that 
the  attorney  was  sure  to  have  clients  and  the  physician  to 
have  patients.  While  a  waiting- woman  was  generally  con- 
sidered as  a  help-meet  for  a  chaplain  in  holy  orders  of  the 
Established  Church,  the  widows  and  daughters  of  opulent 
citizens  were  supposed  to  belong  in  a  peculiar  manner  to 
non-conformist  pastors.  One  of  the  great  Presbyterian 
Rabbles,  therefore,  might  well  doubt  whether,  in  a  worldly 
view,  he  should  be  a  gainer  by  a  comprehension.  He  might 
indeed  hold  a  rectory  or  a  vicarage,  when  he  could  get  one. 
But  in  the  meantime  he  would  be  destitute:  his  meeting- 
house would  be  closed:  his  congregation  would  be  dis- 
persed among  the  parish  churches:  if  a  benefice  were  be- 
stowed on  him,  it  would  probably  be  a  very  slender  com- 
pensation for  the  income  which  he  had  lost.  Nor  could  he 
hope  to  have,  as  a  minister  of  the  Anglican  Church,  the 
authority  and  dignity  which  he  had  hitherto  enjoyed.  He 
would  always,  by  a  large  portion  of  the  members  of  that 
Church,  be  regarded  as  a  deserter.  He  might,  therefore, 
on  the  whole,  very  naturally  wish  to  be  left  where  he  was.* 

*  Tom  Brown  says,  in  his  scurrilous  way,  of  the  Presbyterian  divines  of  that  time, 
that  their  preaching  "brings  in  money,  and  money  buys  land;  and  land  is  an  amuse- 
ment they  all  desire,  in  spite  of  their  hypocritical  cant.  If  it  were  not  for  the  quarterly 
contributions,  there  would  be  no  longer  schism  or  separation."  He  asks  how  it  can  be 
imagined  that,  while  "they  are  maintained  like  gentlemen  by  the  breach,  they  will  ever 
preach  up  healing  doctrines?"— Brown's  Amusements,  Serious  and  Comical.  Some  cu- 
rious instances  of  the  influence  exercised  by  the  chief  dissenting  ministers  may  be  found 
in  Hawkin's  Life  of  Johnson.  In  the  Journal  of  the  retired  citizen  (Spectator,  317.) 
Addison  has  indulged  in  some  exquisite  pleasantry  on  this  subject.  The  Mr.  Nisby 
whose  opinions  about  the  peace,  the  Grand  Vizier,  and  laced  coffee,  are  quoted  with  so 
much  respect,  and  who  is  so  well  regaled  with  marrow  bones,  ox  cheek,  and  a  bottle  of 
Brooks  and  Hellier,  wa*  John  Nesbit,  a  highly  popular  preacher,  who,  about  the  time 
of  the  Revolution,  became  pastor  of  a  dissenting  congregation  in  Hare  Court,  Alders- 
gate  street.  In  Wilson's  History  and  Antiquities  of  Dissenting  Churches  ana  Meeting 
^cHi»es  ia  London,  Westminister,  and  South wark,  will  be  foundf  several  instances  of  non* 


78 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


There  was  consequently  a  division  in  the  Whig  party. 
One  section  of  that  party  was  for  relieving  the  dissenters 
from  the  Test  Act,  and  giving  up  the  Comprehension  Bill. 
Another  section  was  for  pushing  forward  the  Com- 
prehension Bill,  and  postponing  to  a  more  convenient 
time  the  consideration  of  the  Test  Act.  The  effect 
of  this  division  among  the  friends  of  religious  liberty  was 
that  the  High  Churchmen,  though  a  minority  in  the  House 
of  Commons  and  not  a  majority  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
were  able  to  oppose  with  success  both  the  reforms  which 
they  dreaded.  The  Comprehension  Bill  was  not  passed; 
and  the  Test  Act  was  not  repealed. 

Just  at  the  moment  when  the  question  of  the  Test  and 
the  question  of  the  Comprehension  became  complicated 
together  in  a  manner  which  might  well  perplex  an  enlight- 
ened and  honest  politician,  both  questions  became  compli- 
cated with  a  third  question  of  great  importance. 

The  ancient  oaths  of  allegiance  and  supremacy  contained 
some  expressions  which  had  always  been  disliked  by  the^ 
Whigs,  and  other  expressions  which  Tories,  honestly  at- 
tached to  the  new  settlement,  thought  inapplicable  to 
princes  who  had  not  the  hereditary  right.  The  Convention 
had  therefore,  while  the  throne  was  still  vacant,  framed 
those  oaths  of  allegiance  and  supremacy  by  which  we  still 
testify  our  loyalty  to  our  Sovereign.  By  the  Act  which 
turned  the  Convention  into  a  Parliament,  the  members  of 
both  Houses  were  required  to  take  the  new  oaths.  As  to 
other  persons  in  public  trust,  it  was  hard  to  say  how  the 
law  stood.  One  form  of  words  was  enjoined  by  statutes, 
regularly  passed,  and  not  yet  regularly  abrogated.  A  dif- 
ferent form  was  enjoined  by  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  an 
instrument  which  was  indeed  revolutionary  and  irregular, 
but  which  might  well  be  thought  equal  in  authority  to  any 
^  statute.  The  practice  was  in  as  much  confusion  as  the 
law.  It  was  therefore  felt  to  be  necessary,  that  the  legis- 
lature should,  without  delay,  pass  an  Act  abolishing  the 
old  oaths,  and  determining  when  and  by  whom  the  new 
oaths  should  be  taken. 

The  bill  which  settled  this  important  question  origin- 
ated in  the  Upper  House.  As  to  most  of  the  provisions 
there  was  little  room  for  dispute.  It  was  unanimously 
agreed  that  no  person  should,  at  any  future  time,  be  ad- 


conformist  preachers  who,  about  this  time,  made  handaome  fortunes,  generally,  it  should 
6eem,  by  marriage. 


William  and  mary. 

mitted  to  any  office,  civil,  military,  ecclesiastical,  or  aca- 
demical, without  taking  the  oaths  to  William  and  Mary.  It 
was  also  unanimously  agreed  that  every  person  who  already 
held  any  civil  or  military  office  should  be  ejected  from  it, 
unless  he  took  the  oaths  on  or  before  the  first  of  August, 
1689.  But  the  strongest  passions  of  both  parties  were  ex- 
cited by  the  question  whether  persons  who  already  pos- 
sessed ecclesiastical  or  academical  offices  should  be  re- 
quired to  swear  feality  to  the  King  and  Queen  on  pain  of 
deprivation.  None  could  say  what  might  be  the  effect  of 
a  law  enjoining  all  the  members  of  a  great,  a  powerful,  a 
sacred  profession  to  make,  under  the  most  solemn  sanc- 
tion of  religion,  a  declaration  which  might  be  plausibly  re- 
presented as  a  formal  recantation  of  all  that  they  had  been 
writing  and  preaching  during  many  years.  The  Primate 
and  some  of  the  most  eminent  bishops  had  already  ab- 
sented themselves  from  Parliament,  and  would  doubtless 
relinquish  their  palaces  and  revenues,  rather  than  acknowl- 
edge the  new  Sovereigns.  The  example  of  these  great 
prelates  might  perhaps  be  followed  by  a  multitude  of  di- 
vines of  humbler  rank,  by  hundreds  of  canons,  prebend- 
aries, and  fellows  of  colleges,  by  thousands  of  parish 
priests.  To  such  an  event  no  Tory,  however  clear  his  own 
conviction  that  he  might  lawfully  swear  allegiance  to  the 
King  who  was  in  possession,  could  look  forward  without 
the  most  painful  emotions  of  compassion  for  the  sufferers, 
and  of  anxiety  for  the  Church. 

There  were  some  persons  who  went  so  far  as  to  deny 
that  the  Parliament  was  competent  to  pass  a  law  requiring 
a  bishop  to  swear  on  pain  of  deprivation.  No  earthly 
power,  they  said,  could  break  the  tie  which  bound  the  suc- 
cessor of  the  apostles  to  his  diocese.  What  God  had  joined 
no  man  could  sunder.  Kings  and  senates  might  scrawl 
words  on  parchm.ents  or  impress  figures  on  wax;  but  those 
words  and  figures  could  no  more  change  the  course  of  the 
spiritual  than  the  course  of  the  physical  world.  As  the 
Author  of  the  universe  had  appointed  a  certain  order  ac- 
cording to  which  it  was  His  pleasure  to  send  winter  and 
summer,  seedtime  and  harvest,  so  he  had  appointed  a  cer- 
tain order,  according  to  which  He  communicated  His  grace 
to  His  Catholic  Church;  and  the  latter  order  was,  like  the 
former,  independent  of  the  powers  and  principalities  of  the 
world.  A  legislature  might  alter  the  names  of  the  months, 
might  call  June  December,  and  December  June;  but  in 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLA^Nt). 


spite  of  the  legislature,  the  snow  would  fall  when  the  sun 
was  in  Capricorn,  and  the  flowers  would  blconi  when  he 
was  in  Cancer.    And  so  the  legislature  might  enact  that 
Ferguson  or  Muggleton  should  live  in  the  palace  at  Lam- 
beth, should  sit  on  the  throne  of   Augustin,  should  be 
called  Your  Grace,  and  should  walk  in  processions  before 
the  Premier  Duke:  but,  in  spite  of  the  legislature,  Sancroft 
would,  while  Sancroft  lived,  be  the  only  true  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury:  and  the  person  who  should  presumie  to 
usurp  the  archiepiscopal  functions  would  be  a  schismatic. 
This  doctrine  was  proved  by  reasons  drawn  from  the  bud- 
ding of  Aaron's  rod,  and  from  a  certain  plate  which  Saint 
James  the  Less,  according  to  a  legend  of  the  fourth  century, 
used  to  wear  on  his  forehead.    A  Greek  manuscript,  relat- 
ing to  the  deprivation  of  bishops,  was  discovered,  about 
this  time,  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  and  became  the  subject 
of  a  furious  controversy.    One  party  held  that  God  had 
wonderfully  brought  tliis  precious  volume  to  light,  for  the 
guidance  of  His  Church  at  a  most  critical  moment.  The 
other  party  wondered  that  any  importance  could  be  at- 
tached to  the  nonsense  of  a  nameless  scribbler  of  the  thir- 
teenth century.  Much  was  written  about  the  deprivations  of 
Chrysostom  and  Photius,  of  Nicolaus  Mysticus  and  Cos- 
mas  Atticus.     But  the  case  of  Abiathar,  whom  Solomon 
put  out  of  the  sacerdotal  office  for  treason,  was  discussed 
with  peculiar  eagerness.     No  small  quantity  of  learning 
and  ingenuity  was  expended  in  the  attempt  to  prove  that 
Abiathar,  though  he  wore  the  ephod  and  answered  by 
Urim,  was  not  really  High  Priest,  that  he  ministered  only 
when  his  superior  Zadoc  was  incapacitated  by  sickness  or 
by  some  ceremonial  pollution^  and  that  therefore  the  act 
of  Solomon  was  not  a  precedent  which  would  warrant  King 
William  in  deposing  a  real  bishop.*^ 

But  such  reasoning  as  this,  though  backed  by  copious 
citations  from  the  Misna  and  Maimonides,  was  not  gener- 
ally satisfactory  even  to  zealous  churchmen.  For  it  ad- 
mitted of  one  answer,  short,  but  perfectly  intelligible  to 
a  plain  man  who  knew  nothing  about  Greek  fathers  or 
Levitical  genealogies.  There  might  be  some  doubt 
whether  King  Solomon  had  ejected  a  high  priest:  but 

♦  Sec,  among  many  other  tracts,  Dodweirs  Cautionary  Discourses,  his  Vindication  of 
the  Dep>rived  Bishops,  his  Defence  of  the  Vindication,  and  his  Paraenesis;  and  Bisby's 
Unity  of  Priesthood,  printed  in  1692.  See  also  Hody's  tracts  on  the  other  side,  the 
Baroccian  MS.,  and  Solomon  and  Abiathar,  a  Dialogue  between  Eucheres  and  Dys- 
pheret. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


8i 


there  could  be  no  doubt  at  all  that  Queen  Elizabeth  had 
ejected  the  bishops  of  more  than  half  the  sees  in  England. 
It  was  notorious  that  fourteen  prelates  had,  without  any 
proceeding  in  any  spiritual  court,  been  deprived  by  Act  of 
Parliament  for  refusing  to  acknowledge  her  supremacy. 
Had  that  deprivation  been  null  ?  Had  Bonner  continued 
to  be,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  the  only  true  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don? Had  his  successor  been  an  usurper?  Had  Parker 
and  Jewel  been  schismatics  ?  Had  the  Convocation  of 
1562,  that  Convocation  which  had  finally'settled  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Church  of  England,  been  itself  out  of  the  pale 
of  the  Church  of  Christ  ?  Nothing  could  be  more  ludi- 
crous than  the  distress  of  those  controversialists  who  had 
to  invent  a  plea  for  Elizabeth  which  should  not  be  also  a 
plea  for  William.  Some  zealots,  indeed,  gave  up  the  vain 
attempt  to  distinguish  between  two  cases  which  every  man 
of  common  sense  perceived  to  be  undistinguishable,  and 
frankly  owned  that  the  deprivations  of  1559  could  not  be 
justified.  But  no  person,  it  was  said,  ought  to  be  troubled 
in  mind  on  that  account;  for,  though  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land might  once  have  been  schismatical,  she  had  become 
Catholic  when  the  last  of  the  bishops  deprived  by  Eliza- 
beth ceased  to  live.*  The  Tories,  however,  were  not  gen- 
erally disposed  to  admit  that  the  religious  society  to  which 
they  were  fondly  attached  had  originated  in  an  unlawful 
breach  of  unity.  They  therefore  took  ground  lower  and 
more  tenable.  They  argued  the  question  as  a  question  of 
humanity  and  of  expediency.  They  spoke  much  of  the 
debt  of  gratitude  which  the  nation  owed  to  the  priesthood; 
of  the  courage  and  fidelity  with  which  the  order,  from  the 
primate  down  to  the  youngest  deacon,  had  recently  de- 
fended the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  constitution  of  the 
realm;  of  the  memorable  Sunday  when,  in  all  the  hundred 
churches  of  the  capital,  scarcely  one  slave  could  be  found 
to  read  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence;  of  the  black  Friday 
when,  amidst  the  blessings  and  the  loud  weeping  of  a 
mighty  population,  the  barge  of  the  seven  prelates  passed 
through  the  Watergate  of  the  Tower.  The  firmness  with 
which  the  clergy  had  lately,  in  defiance  of  menace  and  of  se- 
duction, done  what  they  conscientiously  believed  to  be 
right,  had  saved  the  liberty  and  religion  of  England.  Was 

*  Burnet,  ii.  135.  Of  all  attempti,  to  distinguish  between  the  deprivations  of  1559  and 
the  deprivations  of  1689,  the  most  absurd  was  made  by  Dodwell.  See  his  Doctrine  of 
the  Church  of  England  concerning  the  Independency  of  th^  Clergy  on  the  lay  Fowef; 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


no  indulgence  to  be  granted  to  them  if  they  now  refused 
to  do  what  they  conscientiously  apprehended  to  be  wrong? 
And  where,  it  was  said,  is  the  danger  of  treating  them 
with  tenderness?  Nobody  is  so  absurd  as  to  propose  that 
they  shall  be  permitted  to  plot  against  the  govermment, 
or  to  stir  up  the  multitude  to  insurrection.  They  are 
amenable  to  the  law,  like  other  men.  If  they  are  guilty 
of  treason,  let  them  be  hanged.  If  they  are  guilty  of  sedi- 
tion, let  them  be  fined  and  imprisoned.  If  they  omit,  in 
their  public  mihistrations,  to  pray  for  King  William,  for 
Queen  Mary,  and  for  the  Parliament  assembled  under 
those  most  religious  sovereigns,  let  the  penal  clauses  of 
the  Act  of  Uniformity  be  put  in  force.  If  this  be  not 
enough,  let  His  Majesty  be  empowered  to  tender  the  oaths 
to  any  clergyman;  and,  if  the  oaths  so  tendered  are  re- 
fused, let  deprivation  follow.  In  this  way  any  nonjuring 
bishop  or  rector  who  may  be  suspected,  though  he  cannot 
be  legally  convicted,  of  intriguing,  of  writing,  of  talking, 
against  the  present  settlement,  may  be  at  once  removed 
from  his  office.  But  why  insist  on  ejecting  a  pious  and 
laborious  minister  of  religion,  who  never  lifts  a  finger  or 
utters  a  word  against  the  government,  and  who,  as  often 
as  he  performs  morning  or  evening  service,  prays  from  his 
heart  for  a  blessing  on  the  rulers  set  over  him  by  Provi- 
dence, but  who  will  not  take  an  oath  which  seems  to  him 
to  imply  a  right  in  the  people  to  depose  a  sovereign? 
Surely  we  do  all  that  is  necessary  if  we  leave  men  of  this 
sort  at  the  mercy  of  the  very  prince  to  whom  they  refuse 
to  swear  fidelity.  If  he  is  willing  to  bear  with  their  scru- 
pulosity, if  he  considers  them,  notwithstanding  their  pre- 
judices, as  innocent  and  useful  members  of  society,  who 
else  can  be  entitled  to  complain? 

The  Whigs  were  vehement  on  the  other  side.  They 
scrutinized,  with  ingenuity  sharpened  by  hatred,  the 
claims  of  the  clergy  to  the  public  gratitude,  and  some- 
times went  so  far  as  altogether  to  deny  that  the  order  had 
in  the  preceding  year  deserved  well  of  the  nation.  It  was 
true  that  bishops  and  priests  had  stood  up  against  the 
tyranny  of  the  late  King:  but  it  was  equally  true  that, 
but  for  the  obstinacy  with  which  they  had  opposed  the 
Exclusion  Bill,  he  never  would  have  been  King,  and  that, 
but  for  their  adulation  and  their  doctrine  of  passive  obedi- 
ence, he  would  never  ,  have  ventured  to  be  guilty  of  such 
tyranny.    Their  chief  business^  during  a  quarter  of  a  cpo- 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


83 


tury,  had  been  to  teach  the  people  to  cringe  and  the  prince 
to  domineer.  They  were  guilty  of  the  blood  of  Russell, 
of  Sidney,  of  every  brave  and  honest  Englishman  who  had 
been  put  to  death  for  attempting  to  save  the  realm  from 
Popery  and  despotism.  Never  had  they  breathed  a  whis- 
per against  arbitrary  power  till  arbitrary  power  began  to 
menace  their  own  property  and  dignity.  Then,  no  doubt, 
forgetting  all  their  old  common-places  about  submitting  to 
Nero,  they  had  made  haste  to  save  themselves.  Grant, — 
such  was  the  cry  of  these  eager  disputants, — grant  that,  in 
saving  themselves,  they  saved  the  constitution.  Are  we 
therefore  to  forget  that  they  had  previously  endangered 
it?  And  are  we  to  reward  them  by  now  permitting  them 
to  destroy  it?  Here  is  a  class  of  men  closely  connected 
with  the  state.  A  large  part  of  the  produce  of  the  soil  has 
been  assigned  to  them  for  their  maintenance.  Their  chiefs 
have  seats  in  the  legislature,  wide  domains,  stately  palaces. 
By  this  privileged  body  the  great  mass  of  the  population  is 
lectured  every  week  from  the  chair  of  authority.  To  this 
privileged  body  has  been  committed  the  supreme  direc- 
tion of  liberal  education.  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  West- 
minster, Winchester,  and  Eton,  are  under  priestly  govern- 
ment. By  the  priesthood  will  to  a  great  extent  be  formed 
th«  character  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  next  gene- 
ration. Of  the  higher  clergy  some  have  in  their  gift 
numerous  and  valuable  benefices;  others  have  the  privi- 
lege of  appointing  judges  who  decide  grave  questions 
affecting  the  liberty,  the  property,  the  reputation  of  Their 
Majesties'  subjects.  And  is  an  order  thus  favored  by  the 
state  to  give  no  guarantee  to  the  state?  On  what  princi- 
ple can  it  be  contended  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  ask  from 
an  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  or  from  a  Bishop  of  Durham 
that  promise  of  fidelity  to  the  government  which  all  allow 
that  it  is  necessary  to  demand  from  every  layman  who 
serves  the  Crown  in  the  humblest  office?  Every  excise- 
man, every  collector  of  the  customs,  who  refuses  to  swear, 
is  to  be  deprived  of  his  bread.  For  these  humble  martyrs 
of  passive  obedience  and  hereditary  right  nobody  has  a 
word  to  say.  Yet  an  ecclesiastical  magnate  who  refuses 
to  swear  is  to  be  suffered  to  retain  emoluments,  patron- 
^S^f  power,  equal  to  those  of  a  great  minister  of  state.  It 
is  said  that  it  is  superfluous  to  impose  the  oaths  on  a 
clergyman,  because  he  may  be  punished  if  he  breaks  the 
law.    Why  is  not  the  same  argument  urged  in  favor  of  th^ 


«4 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


layman?  And  why,  if  the  clergyman  really  means  to 
observe  the  laws,  does  he  scruple  to  take  the  oaths?  The 
law  commands  him  to  designate  William  and  Mary  as 
King  and  Queen,  to  do  this  in  the  most  sacred  place,  to 
do  this  in  the  administration  of  the  most  solemn  of  all  the 
rites  of  religion.  The  law  commands  him  to  pray  that  the 
illustrious  pair  may  be  defended  by  a  special  providence, 
that  they  may  be  victorious  over  every  enemy,  and  that 
their  Parliament  may  by  divine  guidance  be  led  to  take 
such  a  course  as  may  promote  their  safety,  honor  and  wel- 
fare. Can  we  believe  that  his  conscience  will  suffer  him  to 
do  all  this,  and  yet  will  not  suffer  him  to  promise  that  he 
will  be  a  faithful  subject  to  them? 

To  the  proposition  that  the  nonjuring  clergy  should  be 
left  to  the  mercy  of  the  King,  the  Whigs,  with  some  jus- 
tice, replied  that  no  scheme  could  be  devised  more  unjust 
to  His  Majesty.  The  matter,  they  said,  is  one  of  public 
concern, one  in  which  every  Englishman  who  is  unwilling 
to  be  the  slave  of  France  and  of  Rome  has  a  deep  interest. 
In  such  a  case  it  would  be  unworthy  of  the  Estates  of  the 
Realm  to  shrink  from  the  responsibility  of  providing  for 
the  common  safety,  to  try  to  obtain  for  themselves  the 
praise  of  tenderness  and  liberality,  and  to  leave  to  the  Sov- 
ereign the  odious  task  of  proscription.  A  law  requiring 
all  public  functionaries,  civil,  military,  ecclesiastical,  with- 
out distinction  of  persons,  to  take  the  oaths  is  at  least 
equal.  It  excludes  all  suspicion  of  partiality,  of  personal 
malignity,  of  secret  spying  and  tale-bearing.  But,  if  an 
arbitrary  discretion  is  left  to  the  government,  if  one  non- 
juring  priest  is  suffered  to  keep  a  lucrative  benefice  while 
another  is  turned  with  his  wife  and  children  into  the 
street,  every  ejection  will  be  considered  as  an  act  of  cruelty, 
and  will  be  imputed  as  a  crime  to  the  sovereign  and  his 
ministers.* 

Thus  the  Parliament  had  to  decide,  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, what  quantity  of  relief  should  be  granted  to  the 
consciences  of  non-conformists  and  what  quantity  of  pres- 
sure should  be  applied  to  the  consciences  of  the  clergy  of 
the  Established  Church.  The  King  conceived  a  hope  that 
it  might  be  in  his  power  to  effect  a  compromise  agreeable 
to  all  parties.  He  flattered  himself  that  the  Tories  might 
be  induced  to  make  some  concession  to  the  dissenters,  on 


*  As  to  this  controversy,  see  Burnet,  ii.  7,  8,  9;  Grey's  Debates,  April  19  and  20, 1689; 
Commons'  Journals  of  April  20  and  22;  Lords'  Journals,  April  21, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


85 


condition  that  the  Whigs  would  be  lenient  to  the  Jaco- 
bites, He  determined  to  try  what  his  personal  interven- 
tion would  effect.  It  chanced  that,  a  few  hours  after  the 
Lords  had.  read  the  Comprehension  Bill  a  second  time  and 
the  Bill  touching  the  Oaths  a  first  time,  he  had  occasion 
to  go  down  to  Parliament  for  the  purpose  of  giving  his  as- 
sent to  a  law.  From  the  throne  he  addressed  both  Houses, 
and  expressed  an  earnest  wish  that  they  would  consent  to 
modify  the  existing  laws  in  such  a  manner  that  all  Pro- 
testants might  be  admitted  to  public  employment.*  It 
was  well  understood  that  he  was  willing,  if  the  legislature 
would  comply  with  his  request,  to  let  clergymen  who  were 
already  beneficed,  continue  to  hold  their  benefices  without 
swearing  allegiance  to  him.  His  conduct  on  this  occa- 
sion deserves  undoubtedly  the  praise  of  disinterestedness. 
It  is  honorable  to  him  that  he  attempted  to  purchase  lib- 
erty of  conscience  for  his  subjects  by  giving  up  a  safeguard 
of  his  own  crown.  But  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  he 
showed  less  wisdom  than  virtue.  The  only  Englishman 
in  his  Privy  Council  whom  he  had  consulted,  if  Burnet 
was  correctly  informed,  was  Richard  Hampden;  f  and 
Richard  Hampden,  though  a  highly  respectable  man,  was 
so  far  from  being  able  to  answer  for  the  Whig  party  that 
he  could  not  answer  even  for  his  own  son  John,  whose 
temper,  naturally  vindictive,  had  been  exasperated  into 
ferocity  by  the  stings  of  remorse  and  shame.  The  King 
soon  found  that  there  was  in  the  hatred  of  the  two  great 
factions  an  energy  which  was  wanting  to  their  love.  The 
Whigs,  though  they  were  almost  unanimous  in  thinking 
that  the  sacramental  test  ought  to  be  abolished,  were  by 
no  means  unanimous  in  thinking  that  moment  well  chosen 
for  the  abolition;  and  even  those  Whigs  who  were  most 
desirous  to  see  the  non-conformists  relieved  without  delay 
from  civil  disabilities,  were  fully  determined  not  to.  forego 
the  opportunity  of  humbling  and  punishing  the  class  to 
whose  instrumentality  chiefly  was  to  be  ascribed  that  tre- 
mendous reflux  of  public  feeling  which  had  followed  the 
dissolution  of  the  Oxford  Parliament.  To  put  the  Janes, 
the  Souths,  the  Sherlocks  into  such  a  situation  that  they 
must  either  starve,  or  recant,  publicly,  and  with  the  Gos- 
pel at  their  lips,  all  the  ostentatious  professions  of  many 
years  was  a  revenge  too  delicious  to  be  relinquished. 

*  Lords'  Journals,  March  i6,  1689. 
t  Burnet,  ii.  7,  &, 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  Tory,  on  the  other  hand,  sincerely  respected  and  pitied 
those  clergymen  who  felt  scruples  about  the  oaths.  But 
the  Test  was,  in  his  view,  essential  to  the  safety  of  the 
established  religion,  and  must  not  be  surrendered  for  the 
purpose  of  saving  any  man  however  ertiinent  from  any 
hardship  however  serious.  It  would  be  a  sad  day  doubt- 
less for  the  Church  when  the  episcopal  bench,  the  chapter 
houses  of  cathedrals,  the  halls  of  colleges,  would  miss 
some  men  renowned  for  piety  and  learning.  But  it  would 
be  a  still  sadder  day  for  the  Church  when  an  Independent 
should  bear  the  white  staff,  or  a  Baptist  sit  on  the  wool- 
sack. Each  party  tried  to  serve  those  for  whom  it  was  in- 
terested: but  neither  party  would  consent  to  grant  favor- 
able terms  to  its  enemies.  The  result  was  that  the  non- 
comformists  remained  excluded  from  office  in  the  State, 
and  the  nonjurors  were  ejected  from  office  in  the  Church. 

In  the  House  of  Commons,  no  member  thought  it  expe- 
dient to  propose  the  repeal  of  the  Test  Act.  But  leave 
was  given  to  bring  in  a  bill  repealing  the  Corporation  Act, 
which  had  been  passed  by  the  Cavalier  Parliament  soon 
after  the  Restoration,  and  which  contained  a  clause  re- 
quiring all  municipal  magistrates  to  receive  the  sacrament 
according  to  the  forms  of  the  Church  of  England.  When 
this  bill  was  about  to  be  committed,  it  was  moved  by  the 
Tories  that  the  committee  should  be  instructed  to  make 
no  alteration  in  the  law  touching  the  sacrament.  Those 
Whigs  who  were  zealous  for  the  Comprehension  must 
have  been  placed  by  this  motion  in  an  embarrassing  posi- 
tion. To  vote  for  the  instruction  would  have  been  incon- 
sistent with  their  principles.  To  vote  against  it  would 
have  been  to  break  with  Nottingham.  A  middle  course 
was  found.  The  adjournment  of  the  debate  was  moved 
and  carried  by  a  hundred  and  sixteen  votes  to  a  hundred 
and  fourteen;  and  the  subject  was  not  revived.*  In  the 
House  of  Lords  a  motion  was  made  for  the  abolition  of 
the  sacramental  test,  but  was  rejected  by  a  large  majority. 
Many  of  those  who  thought  the  motion  right  in  principle 
thought  it  ill-timed.  A  protest  was  entered;  but  it  was 
signed  only  by  a  few  peers  of  no  great  authority.  It  is  a 
remarkable  fact  that  two  great  chiefs  of  the  Whig  party, 

*  Burnet  says  (ii.  8),  that  the  proposition  to  abolish  the  sacramental  test  was  rejectod 
by  a  great  majority  in  both  Houses.  But  his  memory  deceived  him;  for  the  only  divi- 
Mon  on  the  subject  in  the  House  of  Commons  was  that  mentioned  in  the  text.  It  is  «• 
markable  that  Gwyn  and  Rowe,  who  were  tellers  for  the  majority,  were  two  of  tht 
ytroageat  Whigs  in  the  House. 


WILMAM  AND  MARY. 


who  were  in  general  very  attentive  to  their  parliamentary 
duty,  Devonshire  and  Shrewsbury,  absented  themselves  on 
this  occasion.* 

The  debate  on  the  Test  in  the  Upper  House  was  speedily 
followed  by  a  debate  on  the  last  clause  of  the  Comprehen- 
sion Bill.  By  that  clause  it  was  provided  that  thirty 
bishops  and  priests  should  be  commissioned  to  revise  the 
liturgy  and  canons,  and  to  suggest  amendments.  On  this 
subject  the  Whig  peers  were  almost  all  of  one  mind. 
They  mustered  strong  and  spoke  warmly.  Why,  they 
asked,  were  none  but  members  of  the  sacerdotal  order  to 
be  entrusted  with  this  duty?  Were  the  laity  no  part  of 
the  Church  of  England?  When  the  Commission  should 
have  made  its  report,  laymen  would  have  to  decide  on  the 
recommendations  contained  in  that  report.  Not  a  line  of 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  could  be  altered  but  by  the 
authority  of  King,  Lords,  and  Commons.  The  King  was 
a  layman.  Five-sixths  of  the  Lords  were  laymen.  All  the 
members  of  the  House  of  Commons  were  laymen.  Was 
it  not  absurd  to  say  that  laymen  were  incompetent  to  ex- 
amine into  a  matter  which  it  was  acknowledged  that  lay- 
men must  in  the  last  resort  determine?  And  could 
anything  be  more  opposite  to  the  whole  spirit  of  Protes- 
tantism than  the  notion  that  a  certain  preternatural  power 
of  judging  in  spiritual  cases  was  vouchsafed  to  a  particu- 
lar caste,  and  to  that  caste  alone;  that  such  men  as  Selden, 
as  Hale,  as  Boyle,  were  less  competent  to  give  an  opinion 
on  a  collect  or  a  creed  than  the  youngest  and  silliest  chap- 
lain who,  in  a  remote  manor  house,  passed  his  life  in 
drinking  ale  and  playing  at  shovelboard?  What  God  had 
instituted  no  earthly  power,  lay  or  clerical,  could  alter; 
and  of  things  instituted  by  human  beings  a  layman  was 
surely  as  competent  as  a  clergyman  to  judge.  That  the 
Anglican  liturgy  and  canons  were  of  purely  human  insti- 
tution the  Parliament  acknowledged  by  referring  them  to 
a  Commission  for  revision  and  correction.  How  could  it 
then  be  maintained  that  in  such  a  Commission  the  laity, 
so  vast  a  majority  of  the  population,  the  laity,  whose  edi- 
fication was  the  main  end  of  all  ecclesiastical  regulations, 
and  whose  innocent  tastes  ought  to  be  carefully  consulted 
in  the  framing  of  the  public  services  of  religion,  ought  not 
to  have  a  single  representative?  Precedent  was  directly 
opposed  to  this  odious  distinction.    Repeatedly,  since  the 


•  J,jprd's  Journals,  M^^rch  ai,  j6§§. 


88 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


light  of  reformation  had  dawned  on  England,  Commis- 
sioners had  been  empowered  by  law  to  revise  the  canons; 
and  on  every  one  of  those  occasions  some  of  the  Commis- 
sioners had  been  laymen.  In  the  present  case  the  pro- 
posed arrangement  was  peculiarly  objectionable.  For  the 
object  of  issuing  the  commission  was  the  conciliating  of 
dissenters;  and  it  was  therefore  most  desirable  that  the 
Commissioners  should  be  men  in  whose  fairness  and  mod- 
eration dissenters  could  confide.  Would  thirty  such  men 
be  easily  found  in  the  higher  ranks  of  the  clerical  profes- 
sion? The  duty  of  the  legislature  was  to  arbitrate  be- 
_  tween  two  contending  parties,  the  Non-conformist  divines 
and  the  Anglican  divines,  and  it  would  be  the  grossest  in- 
justice to  commit  to  one  of  those  parties  the  office  of 
umpire. 

On  these  grounds  the  Whigs  proposed  an  amendment 
to  the  effect,  that  laymen  should  be  joined  with  clergy- 
men in  the  Commission.  The  contest  was  sharp.  Bur- 
net, who  had  just  taken  his  seat  among  the  peers  and  who 
seems  to  have  been  bent  on  winning  at  almost  any  price 
the  good  will  of  his  brethren,  argued  with  all  his  constitu- 
tional warmth  for  the  clause  as  it  stood.  The  numbers  on 
the  division  proved  to  be  exactly  equal.  The  consequence 
was  that,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  House,  the  amend- 
ment was  lost.* 

At  length  the  Comprehension  Bill  was  sent  down  to  the 
Commons.  There  it  would,  easily  have  been  carried  by 
two  to  one,  if  it  had  been  supported  by  all  the  friends  of 
religious  liberty.  But  on  this  subject  the  High  Church- 
men could  count  on  the  support  of  a  large  body  of  Low 
Churchmen.  Those  members  who  wished  well  to  Not- 
tingham's plan  saw  that  they  were  outnumbered,  and,  de- 
spairing of  a  victory,  began  to  meditate  a  retreat.  Just  at 
this  time  a  suggestion  was  throv/n  out  which  united  all 
suffrages.  The  ancient  usage  was  that  a  Convocation 
should  be  summoned  together  with  a  Parliament  ;  and  it 
might  well  be  argued  that,  if  ever  the  advice  of  a  Convo- 
cation could  be  needed,  it  m^ust  be  when  changes  in  the 
ritual  and  discipline  of  the  Church  were  under  considera- 
tion. But,  in  consequence  of  the  irregular  manner  in 
which  the  Estates  of  the  Realm  had  been  brought  to- 
gether during  the  vacancy  of  the  throne,  there  was  no 
Convocation.    It  was  proposed  that  the  House  should  ad- 

t  jL^ords'  Jounialb,  Apiii  5,  16S9;  Burnet,  ii»  10, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


89 


vise  the  King  to  take  measures  for  supplying  this  defect, 
and  that  the  fate  of  the  Comprehension  Bill  should  not  be 
decided  till  the  clergy  had  had  an  opportunity  of  declar- 
ing their  opinion  through  the  ancient  and  legitimate 
organ. 

This  proposition  was  received  with  general  acclamation. 
The  Tories  were  well  pleased  to  see  such  honor  done  to 
the  priesthood.  Those  Whigs  who  were  against  the  Com- 
prehension Bill  were  well  pleased  to  see  it  laid  aside,  cer- 
tainly for  a  year,  probably  forever.  Those  Whigs  who 
were  for  the  Comprehension  Bill  were  well  pleased  to 
escape  without  a  defeat.  Some  of  them  indeed  were  not 
without  hopes  that  mild  and  liberal  counsels  might  prevail 
in  the  ecclesiastical  senate. 

An  address  requesting  William  to  summon  the  Convo- 
cation was  voted  without  a  division:  the  concurrence  of  the 
Lords  was  asked:  the  Lords  concurred:  the  address  was 
carried  up  to  the  throne  by  both  Houses:  the  King  prorr.ised 
that  he  would,  at  a  convenient  season,  do  what  his  Parlia- 
ment desired;  and  Nottingham's  bill  was  not  again  men- 
tioned. 

Many  writers,  imperfectly  acquainted  with  the  history 
of  that  age,  have  inferred  from  these  proceeding*!  that  the 
House  of  Commons  was  an  assembly  of  High  Churchmen: 
but  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  two-thircls  of  the 
members  were  either  Low  Churchmen  or  not  Churchmen 
at  all.  A  very  few  days  before  this  time  an  occurrence  had 
taken  place,  unimportant  in  itself,  but  highly  significant  as 
an  indication  of  the  temper  of  the  majority.  It  had  been 
suggested  that  the  House  ought,  in  conformity  with  ancient 
usage,  to  adjourn  over  the  Easter  holidays.  The  IPuritans 
and  Latitudinarians  objected:  there  was  a  sharp  debate: 
the  High  Churchmen  did  not  venture  to  divide;  and  to  the 
great  scandal  of  many  grave  persons,  the  Speaker  look  the 
chair  at  nine  o'clock  on  Easter  Monday;  and  thete  was  a 
long  and  busy  sitting."^ 

This  however  was  by  no  means  the  strongest  proof  which 

*  Commons'  Journals,  March  28,  April  i,  1689;  Paris  Gazette,  April  23.  (''art  of  the 
passage  in  the  Paris  Gazette  is  worth  quoting,  '^11  y  eut,  ce  jour  la  (Mart  h  28),  une 
grande  contestation  dans  la  Chambre  Basse,  sur  la  proposition  qui  fut  faite  die  remettre 
les  seances  apres  les  f^tes  de  Pasques  observees  toujours  par  I'Eglise  Angli(  ane.  Les 
Protestans  conformistes  furent  de  cet  avis;  et  les  Presbyteriens  emporterent  a  la  plurali- 
te  des  voix  que  les  seances  recommenceroient  le  Lundy,  seconde  feste  de  Pasques,  "The 
Low  Churchmen  are  frequently  designated  as  Presbyterians  by  the  French  and  Dutch 
writers  of  that  age.  There  were  not  twenty  Presbyterians,  properly  so  called,  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  See  A.  Smith  and  Cutler's  plain  Dialogue  about  Whig  and  Tory, 
1690. 

Vol.  III-4 


90 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


the  Commons  gave  that  they  were  far  indeed  from 'feeling 

extreme  reverence  or  tenderness  for  the  Anglican  hierarchy. 
The  bill  for  settling  the  oaths  had  just  come  down  from  the 
Lords  framed  in  a  manner  favorable  to  the  clergy.  All 
lay  functionaries  were  required  to  swear  fealty  to  the  King 
and  Queen  on  pain  of  expulsion  from  office.  But  it  was 
provided  that  every  divine  who  already  held  a  benefice 
might  continue  to  hold  it  vyithout  swearing,  unless  the 
Government  should  see  reason  to  call  on  him  specially  for 
an  assurance  of  his  loyalty.  Burnet  had,  partly,  no  doubt, 
from  the  good-nature  and  generosity  which  belonged  to  his 
character,  and  partly  from  a  desire  to  conciliate  his  brethren, 
supported  this  arrangement  in  the  Upper  House  with  great 
energy.  But  in  the  Lower  House  the  feeling  against  the 
Jacobite  priests  was  irresistibly  strong.  On  the  very  day 
on  which  that  House  voted,  without  a  division,  the  address 
requesting  the  King  to  summon  the  Convocation,  a  clause 
was  proposed  and  carried  which  required  every  person 
who  held  any  ecclesiastical  or  academical  preferment  to 
take  the  oaths  by  the  first  of  August  1689,  on  pain  of  sus- 
pension. Six  months,  to  be  reckoned  from  that  day,  were 
allowed  to  the  nonjuror  for  reconsideration.  If,  on  the  first 
of  February  1690,  lie  still  continued  obstinate,  he  was  to 
be  finally  deprived. 

The  bill,  thus  amended,  was  sent  back  to  the  Lords.  The 
Lords  adhered  to  their  original  resolution.  Conference 
after  conference  was  held.  Compromise  after  compromise 
was  suggested.  From  the  imperfect  reports  which  have 
come  down  to  us  it  appears  that  every  argument  in  favor 
of  lenity  was  forcibly  urged  by  Burnet.  But  the  Common" 
were  firm:  time  pressed:  the  unsettled  state  of  the  lar 
caused  inconvenience  in  every  department  of  the  public 
service;  and  the  Peers  very  reluctantly  gave  way.  Thf 
at  the  same  time  added  a  clause,  empowering  the  King  to 
bestow  pecuniary  allowances  out  of  the  forfeited  benefices 
on  a  nonjuring  clergymen.  The  number  of  clergymen 
thus  favored  was  not  to  exceed  twelve.  The  allowance 
was  not  to  exceed  one-third  of  the  income  forfeited.  Some 
zealous  Whigs  were  unwilling  to  grant  even  this  mdul- 
gence:  but  the  Commons  were  content  with  the  victory 
which  they  had  won,  and  justly  thought  that  it  would  be 
ungracious  to  refuse  so  slight  a  concession.* 


*  Accounts  of  what  passed  at  the  Conferences  will  be  foupd  ia  the  Journals  of  the 
Houses,  and  deserve  to  be  read. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


91 


These  debates  were  interrupted,  during  a  short  time,  by 
the  solemnities  and  festivities  of  the  coronation.  When 
Xhe  day  fixed  for  that  great  ceremony  drew  near,  the  House 
of  Commons  resolved  itself  into  a  committee  for  the  pur- 
pose of  settling  the  form  of  words  in  which  our  Sovereigns 
were  thenceforward  to  enter  into  covenent  with  the  nation. 
All  parties  were  agreed  as  to  the  propriety  of  requiring  th^ 
King  to  swear  that,  in  temporal  matters,  he  would  govern 
according  to  law,  and  would  execute  justice  in  mercy.  But 
about  the  terms  of  the  oath  which  related  to  the  spiritual 
institutions  of  the  realm  there  was  much  debate.  Should 
the  chief  magistrate  promise  simply  to  maintain  the  Pro- 
testant  religion  established  by  law,  or  should  he  promise 
to  maintain  that  religion  as  it  should  be  hereafter  estab- 
lished by  law?  The  majority  preferred  the  former  phrase. 
The  latter  phrase  was  preferred  by  those  Whigs  who  were 
for  a  Comprehension.  But  it  was  admitted  that  the  two 
phrases  really  meant  the  same  thing,  and  that  the  oath, 
however  it  might  be  worded,  would  bind  the  Sovereign  in 
his  executive  capacity  only.  This  was  indeed  evident  from 
the  very  nature  of  the  transaction.  Any  compact  may  be 
annulled  by  the  free  consent  of  the  party  who  alone  is  en- 
titled to  claim  the  performance.  It  was  never  doubted  by 
the  most  rigid  casuist  that  a  debtor,  who  has  bound  him- 
self under  the  most  awful  imprecations  to  pay  a  debt,  may 
lawfully  withhold  payment  if  the  creditor  is  willing  to  can- 
cel the  obligation. .  And  it  is  equally  clear  that  no  assur- 
ance, exacted  from  a  King  by  the  Estates  of  his  kingdom, 
can  bind  him  to  refuse  compliance  with  what  may  at  a  fu- 
ture time  be  the  wish  of  those  Estates. 

A  bill  was  drawn  up  in  conformity  with  the  resolutions 
of  the  committee,  and  was  rapidly  passed  through  every 
stage.  After  the  third  reading,  a  foolish  man  stood  up  to 
propose  a  rider,  declaring  that  the  oath  was  not  meant  to 
restrain  the  Sovereign  from  consenting  to  any  change  in 
the  ceremonial  of  the  Church,  provided  always  that  epis- 
copacy and  a  written  form  of  prayer  were  retained.  The 
gross  absurdity  of  this  motion  was  exposed  by  several 
eminent  members.  Such  a  clause,  they  justly  remarked, 
would  bind  the  King  under  pretence  of  setting  him  free. 
The  coronation  oath,  they  said,  was  never  intended  to 
trammel  him  in  his  legislative  capacity.  Leave  that  oath 
as  it  is  now  drawn,  and  no  prince  can  misunderstand  it. 
No  prince  can  seriously  imagine  that  the  two  Houses  mean 


$2 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANl3i 


to  exact  from  him  a  promise  that  he  will  piit  k  veto  on 
laws  which  they  may  hereafter  think  necessary  to  the  well- 
being  of  the  country.  Or  if  any  prince  should  so  strangely 
misapprehend  the  nature  of  the  contract  between  him  and 
his  subjects,  any  divine,  any  lawyer,  to  whose  advice  he 
may  have  recourse,  will  set  his  mind  at  ease.  But  if  this 
rider  should  pass,  it  will  be  impossible  to  deny  that  the 
coronation  oath  is  meant  to  prevent  the  King  from  giving 
his  assent  to  bills  which  may  be  presented  to  him  by  the 
Lords  and  Comrndns;  and  the  most  serious  inconveniences 
may  follow.  These  arguments  were  felt  to  be  unanswer- 
able, and  the  proviso  was  rejected  without  a  division.* 

Every  person  who  has  read  these  debates  must  be  fully 
convinced  that  the  statesmen  who  framed  the  coronation 
oath  did  not  mean  to  bind  the  King  in  his  legislative  ca« 
pacity.f    Unhappily,  more  than  a  hundred  years  later,  a 
scruple,  which  those  statesmen  thought  too  absurd  to  be 
seriously  entertained  by  any  human  being,  found  its  way 
into  a  mind,  honest,  indeed,  and  religious,  but  harrow  and 
obstinate  by  nature,  and  at  once  debilitated  and  excited 
by  disease.    Seldom,  indeed,  have  the  ambition  and  perfidy 
of  tyrants  produced  evils  greater  than  those  which  were 
brought  on  our  country  by  that  fatal  conscientiousness.  A 
conjuncture  singularly  auspicious,  a  conjuncture  at  which 
wisdom  and  justice  might  perhaps  have  reconciled  races 
and  sects  long  hostile,  and  might  have  made  the  Bn.tish 
Islands  one  truly  United  Kingdom,  was  suffered  to  pass 
away.     The  opportunity,  once  lost,  returned  no  more. 
Two  generations  of  public  men  have  since  labored  with 
imperfect  success  to  repair  the  error  which  was  then  com- 
mitted; nor  is  it  improbable  that  some  of  the  penalties  of 
that  error  may  continue  to  afflict  a  remote  posterity. 

The  bill  by  which  the  oath  was  settled  passed  the  Up- 
per House  without  amendment.     All  the  preparations 


*  Journals  March  28,  1689;  Grey's  Debates. 

t  I  will  quote  some  expressions  which  have  been  preserved  in  the  concise  reports  of 
tihese  debates.  Those  expressions  are  quite  decisive  as  to  the  sense  in  which  the  oath 
was  understood  by  the  legislators  who  framed  it.  Musgrave  said,  "There  is  no  occasion 
for  this  proviso.  It  cannot  be  imagined  that  any  bill  from  hence  will  ever  destroy  the 
legislative  power."  Finch  said,  "The  words,  ^established  by  law,'  hinder  not  the  king 
from  passing  any  bill  for  the  relief  of  Dissenters.  The  proviso  makes  the  scruple  and 
gives  the  occasion  for  it."  Sawyer  said,  "This  is  the  first  proviso  of  this  nature  'that 
ever  was  in  any  bill.  It  seems  to  strike  at  the  legislative  power."  Sir  Robert  Cotton 
said,  "Though  the  proviso  looks  well  and  healing,  yet  it  seems  to  imply  a  defect.  Not 
able  to  alter  laws  as  occasion  requires!  This,  instead  of  one  scruple,  raises  more  as  if 
you  were  so  bound  up  to  the  ecclesiastical  government  that  you  cannot  make  any  new 
laws  without  such  a  proviso."  Sir  Thomas  Lee  said,  ''It  will,  I  fear,  creep  in  that  other 
laws  cannot  be  made  without  such  a  proviso;  therefore  I  would  lay  it  aside." 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


93 


were  complete;  and,  on  the  nth  of  April,  the  coronation 
took  place.  In  some  things  it  differed  from  ordinary  cor- 
onations. The  representatives  of  the  people  attended  the 
ceremony  in  a  body,  and  were  sumptuously  feasted  in  the 
Exchequer  Chamber.  Mary,  being  not  merely  Queen 
Consort,  but  also  Queen  Regent,  was  inaugurated  in  all 
things  like  a  King,  was  girt  with  a  sword,  lifted  up  into 
the  throne,  and  presented  with  the  Bible,  the  spurs,  and 
the  orb.  Of  the  temporal  grandees  of  the  realm,  and  of 
their  wives  and  daughters,  the  muster  was  great  and  splen- 
did. None  could  be  surprised  that  the  Whig  aristocracy 
should  swell  the  triumph  of  Whig  principles.  But  the 
Jacobites  saw,  with  concern,  that  many  Lords  who  had 
voted  for  a  Regency  bore  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  cere- 
monial. The  King's  crown  was  carried  by  Grafton,  the 
Queen's  by  Somerset.  The  pointed  sword,  emblematical 
of  temporal  justice,  was  borne  by  Pembroke.  Orm.ond 
was  Lord  High  Constable  for  the  day,  and  rode  up  the 
hall  on  the  right  hand  of  the  hereditary  champion,  who 
thrice  flung  down  his  glove  on  the  pavement,  and  thrice 
defied  to  mortal  combat  the  false  traitor  who  should  gain- 
say the  title  of  William  and  Mary.  Among  the  noble 
damsels  who  supported  the  gorgeous  train  of  the  Queen 
was  her  beautiful  and  gentle  cousin,  the  Lady  Henrietta 
Hyde,  whose  father,  Rochester,  had  to  the  last  contended 
against  the  resolution  which  declared  the  throne  vacant.* 
The  show  of  Bishops,  indeed,  was  scanty.  The  Primate 
did  not  make  his  appearance  and  his  place  was  supplied  by 
Compton.  On  one  side  of  Compton,  the  paten  was  car- 
ried by  Lloyd,  Bishop  of  Saint  Asaph,  eminent  among  the 
seven  confessors  of  the  preceding  year.  On  the  other  side, 
Sprat,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  lately  a  member  of  the  High 
Commission,  had  charge  of  the  chalice.  Burnet,  the  junior 
prelate,  preached  with  all  his  wonted  ability,  and  more 
than  his  wonted  taste  and  judgment.  His  grave  and  elo- 
quent discourse  was  polluted  neither  by  flattery  nor  by  ma- 
lignity. He  is  said  to  have  been  greatly  applauded;  and  it 
may  well  be  believed  that  the  animated  peroration  in  which 
he  implored  heaven  to  bless  the  royal  pair  with  long  life 
and  mutual  love,  with  obedient  subjects,  wise  counsellors, 
and  faithful  allies,  with  gallant  fleets  and  armies,  with  vic- 
tory, with  peace,  and  finally  with  crowns  more  glorious 

*  Lady  Henrietta,  whom  her  uncle  Clarendon  calls  "pretty  little  Lady  Henrietta,"  and 
"the  best  child  in  the  world"  (Diary,  Jan.  1687-8),  was  soon  after  married  to  the  Earl 
Palkeith,  eldest  son  of  the  unfortunate  Duke  of  Monmouth, 


94 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  more  durable  than  those  which  then  glittered  on  the 
altar  of  the  Abbey,  drew  forth  the  loudest  hums  of  the 
Commons.* 

On  the  whole  the  ceremony  went  off  well,  and  produced 
something  like  a  revival,  faint,  indeed,  and  transient,  of 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  preceding  December.  The  day  was, 
in  London,  and  in  many  other  places,  a  day  of  general  re- 
joicing. The  churches  were  filled  in  the  morning:  the 
afternoon  was  spent  in  sport  and  carousing ;  and  at 
night  bonfires  were  kindled,  rockets  discharged,  and  win- 
dows lighted  up.  The  Jacobites,  however^  contrived  to 
discover  or  to  invent  abundant  matter  for  scurrility  and 
sarcasm.  They  complained  bitterly  that  the  way  from  the 
hall  to  the  western  door  of  the  Abbey  had  been  lined  by 
Dutch  soldiers.  Was  it  seemly  that  an  English  king  should 
enter  into  the  most  solemn  of  engagements  with  the  Eng- 
lish nation  behind  a  tripple  hedge  of  foreign  swords  and 
bayonets?  Little  affrays,  such  as,  at  every  great  pageant, 
almost  inevitably  take  place  between  those  who  are  eager 
to  see  the  show  and  those  whose  business  it  is  to  keep 
the  communications  clear,  were  exaggerated  with  all  the 
artifices  cf  rhetoric.  One  of  the  alien  mercenaries  had 
backed  his  horse  against  an  honest  citizen  who  pressed  for- 
ward to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  royal  canopy.  Another 
had  rudely  pushed  back  a  woman  with  the  butt  end  of  his 
musket.  On  such  grounds  as  these  the  strangers  were 
compared  to  those  Lord  Danes  whose  insolence,  in  the  old 
time,  had  provoked  the  Anglo  Saxon  population  to  insur- 
rection and  massacre.  But  there  was  no  more  fertile  theme 
for  censure  than  the  coronation  medal,  which  really  was 
absurd  in  design  and  mean  in  execution.  A  chariot  ap- 
peared conspicuous  on  the  reverse;  and  plain  people  were 
at  a  loss  to  understand  what  this  emblem  had  to  do  with 
William  and  Mary.  The  disaffected  wits  solved  the  diffi- 
culty by  suggesting  that  the  artist  meant  to  allude  to  that 
chariot  which  a  Roman  princess,  lost  to  all  filial  affection, 
and  blindly  devoted  to  the  interests  of  an  ambitious  hus- 
band, drove  over  the  still  warm  remains  of  her  father. f 

*  The  sermon  deserves  to  be  read.  See  the  London  Gazette  of  April  14,  1689;  Evelyn'a 
Diary;  Luttrell's  Diary;  and  the  Despatch  of  the  Dutch  Ambassadors  to  the  States 
General. 

t  A  specimen  of  the  prose  which  the  Jacobites  wrote  on  this  subject  will  be  found 
among  the  Soraers  Tracts.  The  Jacobite  verses  were  generally  too  loathsome  to  be 
quoted.    I  select  some  of  the  most  decent  lines  from  a  very  rare  lampoon: 

The  eleventh  of  April  has  come  about, 
To  Westminster  went  the  rabble  rout, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


95 


Honor^  Harare,  as  usual,  liberally  bestowed  at  this  festive 
season.  Three  garters,  which  happened  to  be  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  Crown,  were  given  to  Devonshire,  Ormond  and 
Schomberg.  Prince  George  was  created  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland. Several  eminent  men  took  new  appellations  by 
which  they  must  henceforth  be  designated.  Danby  be- 
came Marquess  ot  Caermarthen,  Churchill  Earl  of  Marl- 
borough, and  Benrinck  Earl  of  Portland.  Mordaunt  was 
made  Earl  of  Monmouth,  not  without  some  murmuring  on 
the  part  of  old  exclasionists,  who  still  remembered  with 
fondness  their  Protestant  Duke,  and  who  had  hoped  that 
his  attainder  would  be  reversed,  and  that  his  title  would  be 
borne  by  his  descendants.  It  was  remarked  that  the  name 
of  Halifax  did  not  appear  in  the  list  of  promotions.  None 
could  doubt  that  he  might  easily  have  obtained  either  a 
blue  ribbon  or  a  ducal  coronet;  and,  though  he  was  honor- 
ably distinguished  from  most  of  his  contemporaries  by  his 
scorn  of  illicit  gain,  it  was  well  known  that  he  desired  hon- 
orary distinctions  with  a  greediness  of  which  he  was  him- 
self ashamed,  and  which  was  unworthy  of  his  fine  under- 
standing. The  truth  is  that  his  ambition  was  at  this  time 
chilled  by  his  fears.  To  those  whom  he  trusted  he  hinted 
his  apprehensions  that  evil  times  were  at  hand.  The  King's 
life  was  not  worth  a  year's  purchase:  the  government  was 
disjointed,  the  clergy  and  the  army  disaffected,  the  parlia- 
ment torn  by  factions:  civil  war  was  already  raging  in  one 
part  of  the  empire:  foreign  war  was  impending.  At  such  a 
moment  a  minister,  whether  Whig  or  Tory,  might  well  be 

In  order  to  crown  a  bundle  of  clouts, 
A  dainty  fine  king  indeed. 

"  Descended  he  is  from  the  Orange  tree; 
But,  if  I  can  read  his  destiny, 
He'll  once  more  descend  from  another  tree, 
A  dainty  »fine  king  indeed. 

"  He  has  gotten  part  of  the  shape  of  a  man, 
But  more  of  a  monkey,  deny  it  who  can; 
He  has  the  head  of  a  goose,  but  the  legs  of  a  crane, 
A  dainty  fine  king  indeed." 

A.  Frenchman  named  Le  Noble,  who  had  been  banished  from  his  own  country  for  his 
crimes,  but  by  the  connivance  of  the  police,  lurked  in  Paris,  and  earned  a  precarious 
livelihood  as  a  bookseller's  hack,  published  on  this  occasion  two  pasquinades,  now  ex- 
tremely scarce,  '^Le  Couronnement  de  Guillemot  et  de  Guillemette,  avec  le  Sermon  du 
prand  Docteur  Burnet,"  and  ''Le  Festin  de  Guillemot,"  In  wit,  taste,  and  good  sense,  Le 
iN'oble's  writings  are  not  inferior  to  the  English  poem  which  I  have  quoted.  He  tells 
us  that  the  Archbishop  of  York  and  the  Bishop  of  London  had  a  boxing  match  in  the 
Abbey;  that  the  champion  rode  up  the  Hall  on  an  ass,  which  turned  restive  and  kicked 
over  the  royal  table  with  all  the  plate;  and  that  the  banquet  ended  in  a  fight  between 
the  peers  armed  with  stools  and  benches,  and  the  cooks  armed  with  spits.  This  sort  of 
pleasnntry.  strange  to  say,  found  readers;  and  the  writer's  portrs^it  W*s  pompOUily  fR- 
^n^ved  with  Uie  '.notto,  ''J^atrantes  ride:  te  tya  fam^  pianpt," 


96 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


uneasy:  but  neither  Whig  nor  Tory  had  so  much  to  fear 
as  the  Trimmer,  who  might  not  improbably  find  himself 
the  common  mark  at  which  both  parties  would  take  aim. 
For  these  reasons  Halifax  determined  to  avoid  all  ostenta- 
tion of  power  and  influence,  to  disarm  envy  by  a  studied 
show  of  moderation,  and  to  attach  to  himself  by  civilities 
and  benefits  persons  whose  gratitude  might  be  useful  in  ^ 
the  event  of  a  counter-revolution.  The  next  three  months, 
he  said,  would  be  the  time  of  trial.  If  the  government  got 
safe  through  the  summer  it  would  probably  stand.* 

Meanwhile  questions  of  external  policy  were  every  day 
becoming  more  and  more  important.  The  work  at  which 
William  had  toiled  indefatigably  during  many  gloomy  and 
anxious  years  was  at  length  accomplished.  The  great  co- 
alition was  formed.  It  was  plain  that  a  desperate  conflict 
was  at  hand.  The  oppressor  of  Europe  would  have  to 
defend  himself  against  England  allied  with  Charles  the 
Second  King  of  Spain,  with  the  Emperor  Leopold,  and 
with  the  Germanic  and  Batavian  federations,  and  was 
likely  to  have  no  ally  except  the  Sultan,  who  was  waging 
war  against  the  House  of  Austria  on  the  Danube. 

Lewis  had,  towards  the  close  of  the  preceding  year, 
taken  his  enemies  at  a  disadvantage,  and  had  struck  the 
first  blow  before  they  were  prepared  to  parry  it.  But  that 
blow,  though  heavy,  was  not  aimed  at  the  part  where  it 
might  have  been  mortal.  Had  hostilities  been  commenced 
on  the  Batavian  frontier,  William  and  his  army  would 
probably  have  been  detained  on  the  Continent,  and  James 
might  have  continued  to  govern  England.  Happily,  Lewis, 
under  an  infatuation  which  many  pious  Protestants  confi- 
dently ascribed  to  the  righteous  judgment  of  God,  had 
neglected  the  point  on  which  the  fate  of  the  whole  civilized 
world  depended,  and  had  made  a  great  display  of  power, 
promptitude,  and  energy,  in  a  quarter  where  the  most 
splendid  achievements  could  produce  nothing  more  than 
an  illumination  and  a  Te  Deum.  A  French  army  under 
the  command  of  Marshal  Duras  had  invaded  the  Palatin- 
ate and  some  of  the  neighboring  principalities.  But  this 
expedition,  though  it  had  been  completely  successful,  and 
though  the  skill  and  vigor  with  which  it  had  been  con- 
ducted had  excited  general  admiration,  could  not  percepti- 
bly affect  the  event  of  the  tremendous  struggle  which  was 


*  l^er^sby's  Memoirs, 


WILLIAM  AND  kARlf. 


97 


approaching.    France  would  soon  be  attacked  on  every 
side.    It  would  be  impossible  for  Duras  long  to  retain  pos- 
session of  the  provinces  which  he  had  surprised  and  over- 
^  run.    An  atrocious  thought  rose  in  the  mind  of  Louvois, 
who,  in  military  affairs,  had  the  chief  sway  at  Versailles. 
He  was  a  man  distinguished  by  zeal  for  what  he  thought 
the  public  interests,  by  capacity,  and  by  knowledge  of  all 
that  related  to  the  administration  of  war,  but  of  a  savage 
and  obdurate  nature.    If  the  cities  of  the  Palatinate  could 
not  be  retained,  they  might  be  destroyed.     If  the  soil  of 
the  Palatinate  was  not  to  furnish  supplies  to  the  French, 
it  might  be  so  wasted  that  it  would  at  least  furnish  no 
supplies  to  the  Germans.  The  iron-hearted  statesman  sub- 
mitted his  plan,  probably  with  much  management  and 
with  some  disguise,  to  Lewis;  and  Lewis,  in  an  evil  hour 
for  his  fame,  assented.    Duras  received  orders  to  turn  one 
of  the  fairest  regions  of  Europe  into  a  wilderness.  Fifteen 
years  had  elapsed  since  Turenne  had  ravaged  part  of  that 
fine  country.    But  the  ravages  committed  by  Turenne, 
though  they  have  left  a  deep  stain  on  his  glory,  were 
mere  sport  in  comparison  with  the  horrors  of  this  second 
devastation.    The  French  commander  announced  to  near 
half  a  million  of  human  beings  that  he  granted  them  three 
days  of  grace,  and  that,  within  that  time,  they  must  shift 
for  themselves.    Soon  the  roads  and  fields,  which  then  lay 
deep  in  snow,  were  blackened  by  innumerable  multitudes 
of  men,  women,  and  children  flying  from  their  homes. 
Many  died  of  cold  and  hunger:  but  enough  survived  to 
fill  the  streets  of  all  the  cities  of  Europe  with  lean  and 
squalid  beggars,  who  had  once  been  thriving  farmers  and 
shopkeepers.    Meanwhile  the  work  of  destruction  began. 
The  flames  went  up  from  every  market  -place,  every  hamlet, 
every  parish  church,  every  country  seat,  within  the  devoted 
provinces.    The  fields  where  the  corn  had  been  sown  were 
ploughed  up.    The  orchards  were  hewn  down.    No  prom- 
ise of  a  harvest  was  left  on  the  fertile  plains  near  what  had 
once  been  Frankenthal.    Not  a  vine,  not  an  almond  tree, 
was  to  be  seen  on  the  slopes  of  the  sunny  hills  round  what 
had  once  been  Heidelberg.    No  respect  was  shown  to 
palaces,  to  temples,  to  monasteries,  to  infirmaries,  to  beau- 
ful  works  of  art,  to  monuments  of  the  illustrious  dead. 
The  far  famed  castle  of  the  Elector  Palatine  was  turned 
into  a  heap  of  ruins.    The  adjoining  hospital  was  sacked. 
The  provisions,  the  medicinesi,  the  pallets  on  which  the 


98 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANDi 


sick  lay  were  destroyed.  The  very  stones  of  which  Man- 
heim  had  been  built  were  flung  into  the  Rhine.  The  mag- 
nificent Cathedral  of  Spires  perished,  and  with  it  the 
marble  sepulchres  of  eight  Caesars.  The  coffins  were 
broken  open.  The  ashes  were  scattered  to  the  winds. ^ 
Treves  with  its  fair  bridge,  its  Roman  baths  and  amphi- 
theater, its  venerable  churches,  convents,  and  colleges,  was 
doomed  to  the  same  fate.  But,  before  this  last  crime  had 
been  perpetrated,  Lewis  was  recalled  to  a  better  mind  by 
the  execrations  of  all  the  neighboring  nations,  by  the 
silence  and  confusion  of  his  flatterers,  and  by  the  expostu- 
lations of  his  wife.  He  had  been  more  than  two  years 
secretly  married  to  Frances  de  Maintenon,  the  governess 
of  his  natural  children.  It  would  be  hard  to  name  any 
woman  who,  with  so  little  romance  in  her  temper,  has  had 
so  much  in  her  life.  Her  early  years  had  been  passed  in 
poverty  and  obscurity.  Her  first  husband  had  supported 
himself  by  writing  burlesque  farces  and  poems.  When  she 
attracted  the  notice  of  her  sovereign,  she  could  no  longer 
boast  of  youth  or  beauty:  but  she  possessed  in  an  extra- 
ordinary degree  those  more  lasting  charms,  which  men 
of  sense,  whose  passions  age  has  tamed,  and  whose  life  is  a 
life  of  business  and  care,  prize  most  highly  in  a  female 
companion.  Her  character  was  such  as  has  been  well 
compared  to  that  soft  green  on  which  the  eye,  wearied 
by  warm  tints  and  glaring  lights,  reposes  with  pleasure. 
A  just  understanding;  an  inexhaustible  yet  never  redun- 
dant flow  of  rational,  gentle,  and  sprightly  conversation; 
a  temper  of  which  the  serenity  was  never  for  a  moment 
ruflled;  a  tact  which  surpassed  the  tact  of  her  sex  as  much 
as  the  tact  of  her  sex  surpasses  the  tact  of  ours;  such  were 
the  qualities  which  made  the  widow  of  a  bufl^oon  first  the 
confidential  friend,  and  then  the  spouse,  of  the  proudest 
and  most  powerful  of  European  kings.  It  was  said  that 
Lewis  had  been  with  difficulty  prevented  by  the  arguments 
and  vehement  entreaties  of  Louvois  from  declaring  her 
Queen  of  France.  It  is  certain  that  she  regarded  Louvois 
as  her  enemy.  Her  hatred  of  him,  co-operating  perhaps 
with  better  feelings,  induced  her  to  plead  the  cause  of  the 
unhappy  people  of  the  Ehine.    She  appealed  to  those  sen- 

*  For  the  history  of  the  devastation  of  the  Palatinate,  see  the  Memoirs  of  La  Fare, 
Dangeau,  Madame  de  la  Fayette,  Villars,  and  St.  Simon,  and  the  Monthly  Mercuries  fof 
March  and  April  1689.  The  pamphlets  and  broadsides  are  too  numerous  to  quote.  One 
broadside,  entitled  "A  true  account  of  the  barbarous  Cruelties  committed  by  the  French 
in  the  Palatinate  in  January  and  February  last,"  is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


99 


timents  of  compassion  which,  though  weakened  by  many 
corrupting  influences,  were  not  altogether  extinct  in  her 
husband's  mind,  and  to  those  sentiments  of  religion  which 
had  too  often  impelled  him  to  cruelty,  but  which,  on  the 
present  occasion,  were  on  the  side  of  humanity.  He  re- 
lented; and  Treves  was  spared.*  In  truth  he  could  hardly 
.fail  to  perceive  that  he  had  committed  a  great  error.  The 
'devastation  of  the  Palatinate,  while  it  had  not  in  any  sensi- 
ble degree  lessened  the  power  of  his  enemies,  had  inflamed 
their  animosity,  and  had  furnished  them  with  inexhausti- 
ble matter  for  invective.  The  cry  of  vengeance  rose  on 
every  side.  Whatever  scruple  either  branch  of  the  House 
of  Austria  might  have  felt  about  coalescing  with  Protest- 
ants was  completely  removed.  It  was  in  vain  that  Lewis 
accused  the  Emperor  and  the  Catholic  King  of  having  be- 
trayed the  cause  of  the  Church;  of  having  allied  themselves 
with  an  usurper  who  was  the  avowed  champion  of  the 
great  schism;  of  having  been  accessory  to  the  foul  wrong 
done  to  a  lawful  sovereign  who  was  guilty  of  no  crime  but 
zeal  for  the  true  religion.  It  was  in  vain  that  James  sent 
to  Vienna  and  Madrid  piteous  letters,  in  which  he  re- 
counted his  misfortunes,  and  implored  the  assistance  of 
his  brother  kings,  his  brethren  also  in  the  faith,  against 
the  unnatural  children  and  the  rebellious  subjects  who  had 
driven  him  into  exile.  There  was  little  difficulty  in  fram- 
ing a  plausible  answer  both  to  the  reproaches  of  Lewis  and 
to  the  supplications  of  James.  Leopold  and  Charles 
declared  that  they  had  not,  even  for  purposes  of  just  self- 
defence,  leagued  themselves  with  heretics,  till  their  enemy 
had,  for  purposes  of  unjust  aggression,  leagued  himself 
with  Mahometans.  Nor  was  this  the  worst.  The  French 
King,  not  content  with  assisting  the  Moslem  against  the 
Christians,  was  himself  treating  Christians  with  a  barbarity 
which  would  have  shocked  the  very  Moslem.  His  infidel 
allies,  to  do  them  justice,  had  not  perpetrated  on  the  Dan- 
ube such  outrages  against  the  edifices  and  the  members  of 
the  Holy  Catholic  Church  as  he  who  called  himself  the 
eldest  son  of  that  Church  was  perpetrating  on  the  Rhine. 
On  these  grounds,  the  princes  to  whom  James  had  appealed 
replied  by  appealing,  with  many  professions  of  good  wil,' 
and  compassion,  to  himself.  He  was  surely  too  just  to 
blame  them  for  thinking  that  it  was  their  first  duty  to 
defend  their  own  people  against  such  outrages  as  had 


*  Memoirs  of  St.  Simon. 


100 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


turned  the  Palatinate  into  a  desert,  or  for  calling  in  the 
aid  of  Protestants  against  an  enemy  who  had  not  scrupled 
to  call  in  the  aid  of  Turks.* 

During  the  winter  and  the  earlier  part  of  the  spring,  the 
powers  hostile  to  France  were  gathering  their  strength  for 
a  great  effort,  and  were  in  constant  communication  with 
one  another.  As  the  season  for  military  operations  ap- 
proached, the  solemn  appeals  of  injured  nations  to  the 
God  of  battles  came  forth  in  rapid  succession.  The  mani- 
festo of  the  Germanic  body  appeared  in  February;  that  of 
the  States  General  in  March;  that  of  the  House  of  Bran- 
denburg in  April;  and  that  of  Spain  in  May.f 

Here,  as  soon  as  the  ceremony  of  the  coronation  was 
over,  the  House  of  Commons  determined  to  take  into  con- 
sideration the  late  proceedings  of  the  French  King.J  In 
the  debate,  that  hatred  of  the  powerful,  unscrupulous,  and 
imperious  Lewis,  which  had,  during  twenty  years  of  vassal- 
age, been  festering  in  the  hearts  of  Englishmen,  broke  vio- 
iently  forth.  He  was  called  the  most  Christian  Turk,  the 
most  Christian  ravager  of  Christendom,  the  most  Christian 
barbarian  who  had  perpetrated  on  Christians  outrages  of 
which  his  infidel  allies  would  have  been  ashamed. §  A  com- 
mittee, consisting  chiefly  of  ardent  Whigs,  was  appointed 
to  prepare  an  address.  John  Hampden,  the  most  ardent 
Whig  among  them,  was  put  into  the  chair;  and  he  pro- 
duced a  composition  too  long,  too  rhetorical,  and  too  vitu- 
perative, to  suit  the  lips  of  the  Speaker  or  the  ears  of  the 
King.  Invectives  against  Lewis  might,  perhaps,  in  the 
temper  in  which  the  House  then  was,  have  passed  without 
censure,  if  they  had  not  been  accompanied  by  severe  re- 
flections on  the  character  and  administration  of  Charles 
the  Second,  whose  memory,  in  spite  of  all  his  faults,  was 

♦  I  will  quote  a  few  lines  from  Leopold's  letter  to  James:  "Nunc  autem  quo  loco  res 
nostrae  sint,  ut  Serenitati  vestrae  auxilium  praestari  possit  a  nobis,  qui  non  Turcico  tan- 
tum  belloimpliciti,  sed  insuper  etiam  crudelissimo  et  iniquissimoa  Gallis,  rerum  suarumj 
ut  putabarft,  in  Anglia  securis,  contra  datam  fidem  impediti  sumus,  ipsimet  Serenitati 
vestrae  judicandum  relinquimus.  .  .  .  Galli  non  tantum  in  nostruni  et  totius  Chrlstianaa 
orbis  perniciem  foedifraga  arma  cum  juratis  Sanctae  Crucis  hostibus  sociare  fas  sibi 
ducunt;  sed  etiam  in  imperio,  perfidiam  perfidia  cumulando,  urbes  deditione  occupatas 
contra  datam  fidem  immensis  tributis  exhaurire,  exhaustas  diripere,  direptas  funditus 
cxscindere  aut  flammis  delere,  Palatia  Principum  ab  omni  antiquitate  inter  ssevissima 
bellorum  incendia  intacta  servata  exurere,  templa  spoliare,  dedititios  in  servitutem  more 
apud  barbaros  usitato  abducere,  denique  passim,  imprimis  vero  etiam^  in  Catholicorum 
ditionibus,  alia  horrenda,  et  ipsam  Turcorum  tyrannidem  superantia  immanitatis  et 
saevitiae  exempla  edere  pro  ludo  habent." 

t  See  the  London  Gazettes  of  Feb.  25,  March  11,  April  22,  May  2,  and  the  Monthly 
Mercuries.  Some  of  the  Declarations  will  be  found  in  Dumont's  Corps  Universel  Diplo- 
matique. 

$  Commons*  Journals,  April  15, 16,  1689, 
9  Oldmixoa. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


101 


affectionately  cherished  by  the  Tories.  There  were  some 
very  intelligible  allusions  to  Charles's  dealings  with  the 
Court  at  Versailles,  and  to  the  foreign  woman  whom  that 
Court  had  sent  to  lie  like  a  snake  in  his  bosom.  The 
House  was  with  good  reason  dissatisfied.  The  address 
was  recommitted,  and,  having  been  made  more  concise,  and 
less  declamatory  and  acrimonious,  was  approved  and  pre- 
sented.* William's  attention  was  called  to  the  wrongs 
which  France  had  done  to  him  and  to  his  kingdom;  and  he 
was  assured  that,  whenever  he  should  resort  to  arms  for 
the  redress  of  those  wrongs,  he  should  be  heartily  sup- 
ported by  his  people.  He  thanked  the  Commons  warmly. 
Ambition,  he  said,  should  never  induce  him  to  draw  the 
sword:  but  he  had  no  choice:  France  had  already  attacked 
England;  and  it  was  necessary  to  exercise  the  right  of 
self-defence.    A  few  days  later  war  was  proclaimed,  f 

Of  the  grounds  of  quarrel  alleged  by  the  Commons  in 
their  address,  and  by  the  King  in  his  manifesto,  che  'most 
serious  was  the  interference  of  Lewis  in  the  affairs  of 
Ireland.  In  that  country  great  events  had,  during  several 
months,  followed  one  another  in  rapid  succession.  Of 
those  events  it  is  now  time  to  relate  the  histoy,  a  history 
dark  with  crime  and  sorrow,  yet  full  of  interest  and  in- 
struction. • 


CHAPTER  XII.— (1689.) 

William  had  assumed,  together  with  the  title  of  King  of 
England,  the  title  of  King  of  Ireland.  For  all  our  jurists 
then  regarded  Ireland  as  a  mere  colony,  more  important 
indeed  than  Massachusetts,  Virginia,  or  Jamaica,  but,  like 
Massachusetts,  Virginia,  and  Jamaica,  dependent  on  the 
mother  country,  and  bound  to  pay  allegiance  to  the  Sover- 
eign whom  the  mother  country  had  called  to  the  throne. J 

In  fact,  however,  the  Revolution  found  Ireland  emanci- 
pated from  the  dominion  of  the  English  colony.  As  early 
as  the  year  1686,  James  had  determined  to  make  that  island 
a  place  of  arms  which  might  overawe  Great  Britain,  and 
a  place  of  refuge  where,  if  any  disaster  happened  in  Great 

*  Commons'  Journals,  April  19,  24,  26,  1689. 

t  The  declaration  is  dated  on  the  7th  of  May,  but  was  not  published  in  the  London 
Gazette  till  the  13th. 

%  The  general  opinion  of  the  English  on  this  subject  is  clearly  expressed  in  a  littU 
tract  entitled  "Aphorisms  relating  to  the  Kingdom  of  Ireland,"  which  appeared  during 
the  vacancy  of  the  throne. 


102 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


Britain,  the  members  of  his  Church  might  find  refuge. 
With  this  view  he  had  exerted  all  his  power  for  the  pur- 
pose of  inverting  the  relation  between  the  conquerors  and 
the  aboriginal  population.  The  execution  of  his  design  he 
had  entrusted,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  his  English 
counsellors,  to  the  Lord  Deputy  Tyrconnel.  In  the  autumn 
of  1688,  the  process  was  complete.  The  highest  offices  in 
the  state,  in  the  army,  and  in  the  Courts  of  Justice,  were, 
with  scarcely  an  exception,  filled  by  Papists.  A  pettifog- 
ger named  Alexander  Fitton,  who  had  been  detected  in 
forgery,  who  had  been  fined  for  misconduct  by  the  House 
of  Lords  at  Westminster,  who  had  been  many  years  in 
prison,  and  who  was  equally  deficient  in  legal  knowledge 
and  in  the  natural  good  sense  and  acuteness  by  which  the 
want  of  legal  knowledge  has  sometimes  been  supplied, 
was  Lord  Chancellor.  His  single  merit  was  that  he  had 
apostatised  from  the  Protestant  religion;  and  this  merit 
was  thought  sufficient  to  wash  out  even  the  stain  of  his 
Saxon  extraction.  He  soon  proved  himself  worthy  of  the 
confidence  of  his  patrons.  On  the  bench  of  justice  he  de- 
clared that-there  was  not  one  heretic  in  forty  thousand 
who  was  not  a  villain.  He  often,  after  hearing  a  cause  in 
which  the  interests  of  his  Church  were  concerned,  post- 
poned bis  decision,  for  the  purpose,  as  he  avowed,  of  con- 
sulting his  spiritual  director,  a  Spanish  priest,  well  read 
doubtless  in  Escobar."^  Thomas  Nugent,  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic who  had  never  distinguished  himself  at  the  bar  except 
by  his  brogue  and  his  blunders,  was  Chief  Justice  of  the 
King's  Bench. f  Stephen  Rice,  a  Roman  Catholic,  whose 
abilities  and  learning  were  not  disputed  even  by  the  ene- 
mies of  his  nation  and  religion,  but  whose  known  hostility 
to  the  Act  of  Settlement  excited  the  most  painful  appre- 
hensions in  the  minds  of  all  who  held  property  under  that 
Act,  was  Chief  Baron  of  the  Exchequer.J  Richard  Nagle, 
an  acute  and  well  read  lawyer,  who  had  been  educated  in. 
a  Jesuit  college,  and  whose  prejudices  were  such  as  might 
have  been  expected  from  his  education,  was  Attorney  Gen« 
eral.§ 

Keating,  a  highly  respectable  Protestant,  was  still  Chief 


*  King's  State  of  the  Protestants  of  Ireland,  ii.  6,  and  iii.  3. 

t  King,  iii.  3.    Clarendon  in  a  letter  to  Rochester  (June  i,  1686),  calls  Nugent  "a  very 
troublesome,  impertinent  creature." 
King,  iii.  3. 

§  King,  ii.  6,  iii.  3,  Clarendon  in  a  letter  to  Ormond  (Sept.  28,  1686),  speaks  highly  o£ 
Nagle's  knowledge  and  ability,  but  in  the  Diary  (Jan.  311  1686-7),  calls  him  "a 
covetous,  ambitious  ma/>." 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


103 


Justice  o£  the  Common  Pleas:  but  two  Roman  Catholic 
Judges  sate  with  him.  It  ought  to  be  added  that  one  of 
those  judges,  Daly,  was  a  man  of  sense,  moderation,  and 
integrity.  The  matters  however  which  came  before  the 
Court  of  Common  Pleas  were  not  of  great  moment.  Even 
the  King's  Bench  was  at  this  time  almost  deserted.  The 
Court  of  Exchequer  overflowed  with  business;  for  it  was 
the  only  court  at  Dublin  from  which  no  writ  of  error  lay 
to  England,  and  consequently  the  only  court  in  which  the 
English  could  be  oppressed  and  pillaged  without  hope  of 
redress.  Rice,  it  was  said,  had  declared  that  they  should 
have  from  him  exactly  what  the  law,  construed  with  the 
utmost  strictness,  gave  them,  and  nothing  more.  What, 
in  his  opinion,  the  law,  strictly  construed,  gave  them,  they 
could  easily  infer  from  a  saying  which,  before  he  became 
a  judge,  was  often  in  his  mouth.  ^T  will  drive,"  he  used 
to  say,  "a  coach  and  six  through  the  Act  of  Settlement.'* 
He  now  carried  his  threat  daily  into  execution.  The  cry 
of  all  Protestants  was  that  it  mattered  not  what  evidence 
they  produced  before  him;  that,  when  their  titles  were  to 
be  set  aside,  the  rankest  forgeries,  the  most  infamous  wit- 
nesses, were  sure  to  have  his  countenance.  To  his  court 
his  countrymen  came  in  multitudes  with  writs  of  eject- 
ment and  writs  of  trespass.  In  his  court  the  government 
attacked  at  once  the  charters  of  all  the  cities  and  boroughs 
in  Ireland;  and  he  easily  found  pretexts  for  pronouncing 
all  those  charters  forfeited.  The  municipal  corporations, 
about  a  hundred  in  number,  had  been  instituted  to  be  the 
strongholds  of  the  reformed  religion  and  of  the  English 
interest,  and  had  consequently  been  regarded  by  the  Irish 
Roman  Catholics  with  an  aversion  which  cannot  be 
thought  unnatural  or  unreasonable.  Had  those  bodies 
been  remodelled  in  a  judicious  and  impartial  manner,  the 
irregularity  of  the  proceedings  by  which  so  desirable  a  re- 
sult had  been  attained  might  have  been  pardoned.  But 
it  soon  appeared  that  one  exclusive  system  had  been  swept 
away  only  to  make  room  for  another.  The  boroughs  were 
subjected  to  the  absolute  authority  of  the  Crown.  Towns 
in  which  almost  every  householder  was  an  English  Protes- 
tant were  placed  under  the  government  of  Irish  Roman 
Catholics.  Many  of  the  new  aldermen  had  never  even 
seen  the  places  over  which  they  were  appointed  to 
bear  rule.  At  the  same  time  the  sheriffs,  to  whom  be- 
longed the  execution  of  writs  .-nd  the  nomination  of  juries^. 


104 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


were  selected  in  almost  every  instance  from  the  caste 
which  had  till  very  recently  been  excluded  from  all  public 
trust.  It  was  affirmed  that  some.of  these  important  func- 
tionaries had  been  burned  in  the  hand  for  theft.  Others 
had  been  servants  to  Protestants;  and  the  Protestants  ad- 
ded, with  bitter  scorn,  that  it  was  fortunate  for  the  coun- 
try when  this  was  the  case;  for  that  a  menial  who  had 
cleaned  the  plate  and  rubbed  down  the  horse  of  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman  might  pass  for  a  civilized  being,  when 
compared  with  many  of  the  native  aristocracy  whose  lives 
had  been  spent  in  coshering  or  marauding.  To  such 
sheriffs  no  colonist,  even  if  he  had  been  so  strangely  for- 
tunate as  to  obtain  a  judgment,  dared  to  entrust  an  ex- 
ecution.* 

Thus  the  civil  power  had,  in  the  space  of  a  few  months, 
been  transferred  from  the  Saxon  to  the  Celtic  population. 
The  transfer  of  the  military  power  had  been  not  less  com- 
plete. The  army,  which  under  the  command  of  Ormond, 
had  been  the  chief  safeguard  of  the  English  ascendency, 
had  ceased  to  exist.  Whole  regiments  had  been  dissolved 
and  reconstructed.  Six  thousand  Protestant  veterans, 
deprived  of  their  bread,  were  brooding  in  retirement  over 
their  wrongs,  or  had  crossed  the  sea  and  joined  the  stand- 
ard of  William.  Their  place  was  supplied  by  men  who 
had  long  suffered  oppression,  and  who,  finding  themselves 
suddenly  transformed  from  slaves  into  masters,  were  im- 
patient to  pay  back,  with  accumulated  usury,  the  heavy 
debt  of  injuries  and  insults.  The  new  soldiers,  it  was 
said,  never  passed  an  Englishman  without  cursing  him 
and  calling  him  by  some  foul  name.  They  were  the  ter- 
ror of  every  Protestant  inn- keeper;  for,  from  the  moment 
when  they  came  under  his  roof,  they  ate  and  drank  every- 
thing: they  paid  for  nothing;  and  by  their  rude  swagger- 
ing they  scared  more  respectable  guests  from  his  door.f 

Such  was  the  state  of  Ireland  when  the  Prince  of 
Orange  landed  at  Torbay.    From  that  time  every  packet 

*  King,  ii.  5.  i,  iii.  3,  5;  A  Short  View  of  the  Methods  made  use  of  in  Ireland  for  the 
Supervision  and  Destruction  of  the  Protestant  Religion  and  Interests,  by  a  Clergyman 
lately  escaped  from  thence,  licensed  October  17,  1689. 

t  King,  iii.  2.  I  cannot  find  that  Charles  Leslie,  who  was  zealous  on  the  other  side, 
has,  in  his  answer  to  King,  contradicted  any  of  these  facts.  Indeed  Leslie  gives  up 
Tyrconnel's  administration.  ''I  desire  to  obviate  one  objection  which  I  know  will  be 
made,  as  if  I  were  about  wholly  to  vindicate  all  that  the  Lord  Tyrconnel  and  other 
of  King  James's  ministers  have  done  in  Ireland,  especially  before  this  revolution  began, 
and  which  most  of  anything  brought  it  on.  No;  I  am  far  from  it.  I  am  sensible  that 
their  carriage  in  many  particulars  gave  greater  occasion  to  King  James's  enemies  than  alj 
the  other  maladministrations  which  were  charged  upon  his  government." — Leslie's  An- 
swer to  King,  1692, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


Vi^hich  arrived  at  Dublin  brought  tidings,  such  as  could 
not  but  increase  the  mutual  fear  and  loathing  of  the  hos- 
tile races.  The  colonist,  who,  after  long  enjoying  and 
abusing  power,  had  now  tasted  for  a  moment  the  bitter- 
ness of  servitude,  the  native,  who  having  drunk  to  the 
dregs  all  the  bitterness  of  servitude,  had  at  length  for  a 
moment  enjoyed  and  abused  power,  were  alike  sensible 
that  a  great  crisis,  a  crisis  like  that  of  1641,  was  at  hand, 
rhe  majority  impatiently  expected  Phelim  O'Neil  to  re- 
vive in  Tyrconnel.  The  minority  saw  in  William  a  second 
Oliver. 

On  which  side  the  first  blow  was  struck  was  a  question 
i/hich  Williamites  and  Jacobites  afterwards  debated  with 
much  asperity.  But  no  question  could  be  more  idle.  His- 
tory must  do  to  both  parties  the  justice  which  neither  has 
ever  done  to  the  other,  and  must  admit  that  both  had  fair 
pleas  and  cruel  provocations.  Both  had  been  placed,  by  a 
fate  for  which  neither  was  answerable,  in  such  a  situation 
that,  human  nature  being  what  it  is,  they  could  not  but 
regard  each  other  with  enmity.  A  king,  who  perhaps 
might  have  reconciled  them,  had,  year  after  year,  system- 
atically employed  his  whole  power  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
flaming their  enmity  to  madness.  It  was  now  impossible 
to  establish  in  Ireland  a  just  and  beneficent  government,  a 
government  which  should  know  no  distinction  of  race  or 
of  sect,  a  government  which,  while  strictly  respecting  the 
rights  guaranteed  by  law  to  the  new  land-owners,  should 
alleviate,  by  a  judicious  liberality,  the  misfortunes  of  the 
ancient  gentry.  The  opportunity  had  passed  away;  com- 
promise had  become  impossible:  the  two  infuriated  castes 
were  alike  convinced  that  it  was  necessary  to  oppress  or 
to  be  oppressed,  and  that  there  could  be  no  safety  but  in 
victory,  vengeance,  and  dominion.  They  agreed  only  in 
spurning  out  of  the  way  every  mediator  who  sought  to 
reconcile  them. 

During  some  weeks  there  were  outrages,  insults,  evil 
reports,  violent  panics,  the  natural  preludes  of  the  terrible 
conflict  which  was  at  hand.  A  rumor  spread  over  the 
whole  island  that,  on  the  ninth  of  December,  there  would 
be  a  general  massacre  of  the  Englishry.  Tyrconnel  sent 
for  the  chief  Protestants  of  Dublin  to  the  Castle,  and, 
with  his  usual  energy  of  diction,  invoked  on  himself  all 
the  veageance  of  heaven,  if  the  report  was  not  a  cursed,  a 
blasted,  a  confounded  lie.    It  was  said  that,  in  his  rage  at 


io6 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


finding  his  oaths  ineffectual,  he  pulled  off  his  hat  and  wig, 
and  flung  them  into  the  fire.*  But  lying  Dick  Talbot  was 
so  well  known  that  his  imprecations  and  gesticulations 
only  strengthened  the  apprehension  which  they  were  meant 
to  allay.  Ever  since  the  recall  of  Clarendon  there  had  been 
a  large  emigration  of  timid  and  quiet  people  from  the  Irish 
ports  to  England.  That  emigration  now  went  on  faster 
than  ever.  It  was  not  easy  to  obtain  a  passage  on  board 
of  a  well-built  or  commodious  vessel  But  many  persons, 
made  bold  by  exces§  of  fear,  and  choosing  rather  to  trust 
the  winds  and  waves  than  the  exasperated  Irishry,  ventured 
to  encounter  all  the  dangers  of  St.  George's  Channel  and 
of  the  Welsh  coast  in  open  boats  and  in  the  depth  of  win- 
ter. The  English  who  remained  began,  in  almost  every 
county,  to  draw  close  together.  Every  large  country 
house  became  a  fortress.  Every  visitor  who  arrived  after 
nightfall  was  challenged  from  a  loophole  or  from  a  barri- 
caded  window;  and  if  he  attempted  to  enter  without  pass- 
words and  explanations,  a  blunderbus  was  presented  to 
him.  On  the  dreaded  night  of  the  ninth  of  December, 
there  was  scarcely  one  Protestant  mansion  from  the  Giant's 
Causeway  to  Bantry  Bay  in  which  armed  men  were  not 
watching  and  lights  burning  from  the  early  sunset  to  the 
late  sunrise.f 

A  minute  account  of  what  passed  in  one  district  at  this 
time  has  come  down  to  us,  and  well  illustrates  the  general 
state  of  the  kingdom.  The  south-western  part  of  Kerry 
is  now  well  known  as  the  most  beautiful  tract  in  the  Brit- 
ish Isles.  The  mountains,  the  glens,  the  capes  stretching 
far  into  the  Atlantic,  the  crags  on  which  the  eagles  build, 
the  rivulets  brawling  down  rocky  passes,  the  lakes  over- 
hung by  groves  in  which  the  wild  deer  find  covert,  attract 
every  summer  crowds  of  wanderers  sated  with  the  business 
and  the  pleasures  of  great  cities.  The  beauties  of  that 
country  are  indeed  too  often  hidden  in  the  mist  and  rain 
which  the  w^est  wind  brings  up  from  a  boundless  ocean. 
But,  on  the  rare  days  when  the  sun  shines  out  all  his 
glory,  the  landscape  has  a  freshness  and  a  warmth  of  col- 
oring seldom  found  in  our  latitude.  The  myrtle  loves  the 
soil.  The  arbutus  thrives  better  than  tven  on  the  sunny 
shore  of  Calabria.^     The  turf  is  of  livelier  hue  than  else- 

*  A  True  and  Impartial  Account  of  the  most  material  Passages  in  Ireland  since  De- 
cember, 1688,  by  a  gentleman  who  was  an  I.ye-witness;  licensed  July  22,  1689. 

t  A  True  and  Impartial  Account,  1689;   Leslie's  Answer  to  King,  1692. 

There  have  been  in  the  neighborhood  of  Killarney  specimens  of  the  arbutus  thirty 
(cct  high  and  four  fe&t  and  a  half  round.     See  the  Philosophical  Transactions,  227, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


107 


where:  the  hills  glow  with  a  richer  purple:  the  varnish  of 
the  holly  and  ivy  is  more  glossy;  and  berries  of  a  brighter 
red  peep  through  foliage  of  a  brighter  green.  But  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  this  paradise 
was  as  little  known  to  the  civilized  world  as  Spitzbergen 
or  Greenland.  If  ever  it  was  mentioned,  it  was  mentioned 
as  a  horrible  desert,  a  chaos  of  bogs,  thickets,  and  preci- 
pices, where  the  she-wolf  still  littered,  and  where  some  half- 
naked  savages,  who  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English, 
made  themselves  burrows  in  the  mud,  and  lived  on  roots 
and  sour  milk.* 

At  length,  in  the  year  1670,  the  benevolent  and  enlight- 
ened Sir  William  Petty  determined  to  form  an  English 
settlement  in  this  wild  district.  He  possessed  a  large  do- 
main there,  which  has  descended  to  a  posterity  worthy  of 
such  an  ancestor.  On  the  improvement  of  that  domain  he 
expended,  it  was  said,  not  less  than  ten  thousand  pounds. 
The  little  town  which  he  founded,  named  from  the  bay  of 
Kenmare,  stood  at  the  head  of  that  bay  under  a  mountain 
ridge,  on  the  summit  of  which  travellers  now  stop  to  gaze 
upon  the  loveliest  of  the  three  lakes  of  Killarney.  Scarcely 
any  village,  built  by  an  enterprising  band  of  New  Eng- 
landers,  far  from  the  dwellings  of  their  countrymen,  in 
the  midst  of  the  hunting  grounds  of  the  Red  Indians,  was 
more  completely  out  of  the  pale  of  civilization  than  Ken- 
mare. Between  Petty's  settlement  and  the  nearest  English 
habitation,  the  journey  by  land  was  of  two  days  through  a 
wild  and  dangerous  country.  Yet  the  place  prospered. 
Forty-two  houses  were  erected.  The  population  amounted 
to  a  hundred  and  eighty.  The  land  round  the  town  was 
well  cultivated.  The  cattle  were  numerous.  Two  small 
barks  were  employed  in  fishing  and  trading  along  the 
coast.  The  supply  of  herrings,  pilchards,  mackerel,  and 
salmon  was  plentiful,  and  would  have  been  still  more 
plentiful,  had  not  the  beach  been,  in  the  finest  part  of  the 

*  In  a  very  full  account  of  the  British  isles  published  at  Nuremberg  in  1690,  Keiry  is 
described  as  "an  vielen  Orten  unwegsam  und  voller  Walder  und  Gebiirge."  Wolves 
still  infested  Ireland.  ''Kein  schadlich  Thier  ist  da,  ausserhalb  Wolff  und  Fiiches." 
So  late  as  the  year  1710  money  was  levied  on  presentments  of  the  Grand  Jury  of  Kerry 
for  the  destruction  of  wolves  in  that  county.  See  Smith's  Ancient  and  Modern  State 
of  the  County  of  Kerry,  1756.  I  -do  not  know  that  I  have  ever  met  with  a  better  book 
of  the  kind  and  of  the  size.  In  a  poem  published  as  late  as  1719,  and  entitled  Macder- 
mot,  or  the  Irish  Fortune  Hunter,  in  six  cantos,  wolf-hunting  and  wolf-spearing  are  re- 
presented as  common  sports  in  Munster.  In  William's  reign  Ireland  was  sometimes  called 
by  the  nickname  of  Wolfland.  Thus  in  a  poem  on  the  battle  of  La  Hogue,  called  Advice 
to  a  Painter,  the  terror  of  the  Irish  army  is  thus  described: 

•'A  chilling  damp 
And  Wolfland  howl  runs  thro'  the  rising  camp." 


to8  /   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

year,  covered  by  multitudes  of  seals,  which  preyed  on  the 
fish  of  the  bay.  Yet  the  seal  was  not  an  unwelcome  vis- 
itor: his  fur  was  valuable,  and  his  oil  supplied  light  through 
the  long  nights  of  winter.  An  attempt  was  made  with 
great  success  to  set  up  iron  works.  It  was  not  yet  the 
practice  to  employ  coal  for  the  purpose  of  smelting;  and 
the  manufacturers  of  Kent  and  Sussex  had  much  difficulty 
in  procuring  timber  at  a  reasonable  price.  The  neighbor- 
hood of  Kenmare  was  then  richly  wooded;  and  Petty 
found  it  a  gainful  speculation  to  send  ore  thither.  The 
lovers  of  the  picturesque  still  regret  the  woods  of  oak  and 
arbutus  which  were  cut  down  to  feed  his  furnaces.  An- 
other scheme  had  occurred  to  his  active  and  intelligent 
mind.  Some  of  the  neighboring  islands  abounded  with 
variegated  marble,  red  and  white,  purple  and  green. 
Petty  well  knew  at  what  cost  the  ancient  Romans  had  deco- 
rated their  baths  and  temples  with  many  colored  columns 
hewn  from  Laconian  and  African  quarries;  and  he  seems 
to  have  indulged  the  hope  that  the  rocks  of  his  wild  do- 
main in  Kerry  miglit  furnish  embellishments  to  the  man- 
sions of  Saint  James's  Square,  and  to  the  choir  of  Saint 
Paul's  Cathedral.* 

From  the  first,  the  settlers  had  found  that  they  must  be 
prepared  to  exercise  the  right  of  self-defence  to  an  extent 
which  would  have  been  unnecessary  and  unjustifiable  in  a 
well  governed  country.  The  law  was  altogether  without 
force  in  the  highlands  which  lie  on  the  south  of  the  vale 
of  Tralee.  No  officer  of  justice  willingly  ventured  into 
those  parts.  One  pursuivant,  who  in  1680  attempted  to 
execute  a  warrant  there,  was  murdered.  The  people  of  Ken- 
mare seem  however  to  have  been  sufficiently  secured  by 
their  union,  their  intelligence,  and  their  spirit,  till  the  close 
of  the  year  1688.  Then  at  length  the  effects  of  the  policy 
of  Tyrconnel  began  to  be  felt  even  in  that  remote  corner 
of  Ireland.  In  the  eyes  of  the  peasantry  of  Munster  the 
colonists  were  aliens  and  heretics.  The  buildings,  the 
boats,  the  machines,  the  granaries,  the  dairies,  the  fur- 
naces, were  doubtless  contemplated  by  the  native  race  with 
that  mingled  envy  and  contempt  with  which  the  ignorant 
naturally  regard  the  triumphs  of  knowledge.  Nor  is  it  at  all 
improbable  that  the  emigrants  had  been  guilty  of  thoee 
faults  from  which  civilized  men  who  settle  among  an  un- 
civilized people  are  rarely, free.    The  power  derived  from 

*  Smith's  Ancient  and  Modern  State  of  Kerry. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


109 


superior  intelligence  had,  we  may  easily  believe,  been 
sometimes  displayed  with  insolence,  and  sometimes  ex- 
erted with  injustice.  Now,  therefore,  when  the  news  spread 
from  altar  to  altar,  and  from  cabin  to  cabin,  that  the  stran- 
gers were  to  be  driven  out,  and  that  their  houses  and  lands 
were  to  be  given  as  a  booty  to  the  children  of  the  soil,  a 
predatory  war  commenced.  Plunderers,  thirty,  forty,  sev- 
enty in  a  troop,  prowled  round  the  town,  some  with  fire- 
arms, some  with  pikes.  The  barns  were  robbed.  The 
horses  were  stolen.  In  one  foray  a  hundred  and  forty 
cattle  were  swept  away  and  driven  off  through  the  ravines 
of  Glengariff.  In  one  night  six  dwellings  were  broken 
open  and  pillaged.  At  last  the  colonists,  driven  to  ex- 
tremity, resolved  to  die  like  men  rather  than  be  murdered 
in  their  beds.  The  house  built  by  Petty  for  his  agent  was 
the  largest  in  the  place.  It  stood  on  a  rocky  peninsula 
round  which  the  waves  of  the  bay  broke.  Here  the  whole 
population  assembled,  seventy-five  fighting  men,  with 
about  a  hundred  women  and  children.  They  had  among 
them  sixty  firelocks,  and  as  many  pikes  and  swords. 
Round  the  agent's  house  they  threw  up  with  great  speed 
a  wall  of  turf  fourteen  feet  in  height  and  twelve  in  thick- 
ness. The  space  enclosed  was  about  half  an  acre.  With- 
in this  rampart  all  the  arms,  the  ammunition,  and  the  pro- 
visions of  the  settlement  were  collected,  and  several  huts 
of  thin  plank  were  built.  When  these  preparations  were 
completed,  the  men  of  Kenmare  began  to  make  vigorous 
reprisals  on  their  Irish  neighbors,  seized  robbers,  recovered 
stolen  property,  and  continued  during  some  weeks  to  act 
in  all  things  as  an  independent  commonwealth.  The  gov- 
ernment was  carried  on  by  elective  officers  to  whom  every 
member  of  the  society  swore  fidelity  on  the  Holy  Gospels.* 
While  the  people  of  the  small  town  of  Kenmare  were 
thus  bestirring  themselves,  similar  preparations  for  defence 
were  made  by  larger  communities  on  a  larger  scale.  Great 
numbers  of  gentlemen  and  yeomen  quitted  the. open  coun- 
try, and  repaired  to  those  towns  which  had  been  founded 
and  incorporated  for  the  purpose  of  bridling  the  native 
population,  and  which,  though  recently  placed  under  the 
government  of  Roman  Catholic  magistrates,  were  still  in- 
habited chiefly  by  Protestants.  A  considerable  body  of 
armed  colonists  mustered  at  Sligo,  another  at  Charleville, 


*  Exact  Relation  of  the  Persecutions,  Robberies  and  Losses  sustained  by  the  Protest* 
anU  of  Kilmare  in  Ireland,  1689;  Smith's  Ancient  and  Modern  State  of  Kerry,  17 s^* 


no 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


a  third  at  Mallow,  a  foi^rth  still  more  formidable  at  Ban- 
don.*  But  the  principal  strongholds  of  the  Englishry  dur- 
ing this  evil  time  were  Enniskillen  and  Londonderry. 

Enniskillen,  though  the  capital  of  the  county  of  Ferman- 
agh,  was  then  merely  a  village.  It  was  built  on  an  island 
surrounded  by  the  river  which  joins  the  two  beautiful 
sheets  of  water  known  by  the  common  name  of  Lough 
Erne.  The  stream  and  both  the  lakes  were  overhung  on 
every  side  by  natural  forests.  Enniskillen  consisted  of 
about  eighty  dwellings  clustering  round  an  ancient  castle. 
The  inhabitants  were,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  Protest- 
ants, and  boasted  that  their  town  had  been  true  to  the 
Protestant  cause  through  the  terrible  rebellion  which  broke 
out  in  1641.  Early  in  December  they  received  from  Dub- 
lin an  intimation  that  two  companies  of  Popish  infantry 
were  to  be  immediately  quartered  on  them.  The  alarm  of 
the  little  community  was  great,  and  the  greater  because  it 
was  known  that  a  preaching  friar  had  been  exerting  him- 
self to  inflame  the  Irish  population  of  the  neighborhood 
against  the  heretics.  A  daring  resolution  was  taken. 
Come  what  might,  the  troops  should  not  be  admitted.  Yet 
the  means  of  defence  were  slender.  Not  ten  pounds  of 
powder,  not  twenty  firelocks  fit  for  use,  could  be  collected 
within  the  walls.  Messengers  were  sent  with  pressing 
letters  to  summon  the  Protestant  gentry  of  the  vicinage 
to  the  rescue:  and  the  summons  was  gallantly  obeyed.  In 
a  few  hours  two  hundred  foot  and  a  hundred  and  fifty 
horse  had  assembled.  Tyrconnel's  soldiers  were  already 
at  hand.  They  brought  with  them  a  considerable  supply 
of  arms  to  be  distributed  among  the  peasantry.  The  peas- 
antry greeted  the  royal  standard  with  delight,  and  accom- 
panied the  march  in  great  numbers.  The  townsmen  and 
their  allies,  instead  of  waiting  to  be  attacked,  came  boldly 
forth  to  encounter  the  intruders.  The  officers  of  James 
had  expected  no  resistance.  They  were  confounded  when 
they  saw  confronting  them  a  column  of  foot,  flanked  by  a 
large  body  of  mounted  gentlemen  and  yeomen.  The  crowd 
of  camp  followers  ran  away  in  terror.  The  soldiers  made 
a  retreat  so  precipitate  that  it  might  be  called  a  flight,  and 
scarcely  halted  till  they  were  thirty  miles  off  at  Cavan.f 

*  Ireland's  Lamentation,  licensed  May  18,  1689, 

t  A  True  Relation  of  the  Actions  of  the  Inniskilling  men,  by  Andrew  Hamilton, 
Rector  of  Kilskerrie,  and  one  of  the  Prebends  of  the  Diocese  of  Clogher,  an  Eye-witness 
thereof  and  Actor  therein,  licensed  Jan.  15.  1689-90;  A  Further  Impartial  Account  of  the 
Actioas  of  the  louiskillin^  men,  by  Captain  WiiHam  MacCormick,  one  of  the  firs"  that 
•^Qok  up  Arms,  I'o^^ 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


Ill 


The  Protestants,  elated  by  this  easy  victory,  proceeded 
to  make  arrangements  for  the  government  and  defence  of 
Enniskillen  and  of  the  surrounding  country.  Gustavus 
Hamilton,  a  gentleman  who  had  served  in  the  army,  but  who 
had  recently  been  deprived  of  his  commission  by  Tyrcon- 
nel,  and  had  since  been  living  on  an  estate  in  Fermanagh, 
was  appointed  Governor,  and  took  up  his  residence  in  the 
castle.  Trusty  men  were  enlisted  and  armed  with  great 
expedition.  As  there  was  a  scarcity  of  swords  and  pikes, 
smiths  were  employed  to  make  weapons  by  fastening 
scythes  on  poles.  All  the  country  houses  round  Lough 
Erne  were  turned  into  garrisons.  No  Papist  was  suffered 
to  be  at  large  in  the  town;  and  the  friar  who  was  accused 
of  exerting  his  eloquence  against  the  Englishry  was  thrown 
into  prison. 

The  other  great  fastness  of  Protestantism  was  a  place 
of  more  importance.  Eighty  years  before,  during  the 
troubles  caused  by  the  last  struggle  of  the  houses  of 
O'Neil  and  O'Donnell  against  the  authority  of  James  the 
First,  the  ancient  city  of  Derry  had  been  surprised  by  one 
of  the  native  chiefs:  the  inhabitants  had  been  slaughtered, 
and  the  houses  reduced  to  ashes.  The  insurgents  were 
speedily  put  down  and  punished:  the  government  resolved 
to  restore  the  ruined  town:  the  Lord  Mayor,  Aldermen, 
and  Common  Council  of  London  were  invited  to  assist  in 
the  work;  and  King  James  the  First  made  over  to  them  in 
their  corporate  capacity  the  ground  covered  by  the  ruins 
of  the  old  Derry,  and  about  six  thousand  acres  in  the 
neighborhood. f 

This  country,  then  uncultivated  and  uninhabited,  is  now 
enriched  by  industry,  embellished  by  taste,  and  pleasing 
even  to  eyes  accustomed  to  the  well-tilled  fields  and 
stately  manor  houses  of  England.  A  new  city  soon  arose 
which,  on  account  of  its  connection  with  the  capital  of  the 
empire,  was  called  Londonderry,  The  buildings  covered 
the  summit  and  slope  of  a  hill  which  overlooked  the  broad 
stream  of  the  Foyle,  then  whitened  by  vast  flocks  of  wild 
swan. J  On  the  highest  ground  stood  the  cathedral,  a 
church  which,  though  erected  when  the  secret  of  Gothic 
architecture  was  lost,  and  though  ill-qualified  to  sustain  a 
comparison  with  the  awful  temples  of  the  middle  ages,  is 

*  Hamilton's  True  Relation;  Mac  Cormick's  Further  Impartial  Account, 
t  Concise  View  of  the  Irish  Society,  1822;  Mr.  Heath's  interesting  Account  of  the 
Worshipful  Company  of  Grocers,  Appendix  17. 
I  The  Interest  of  England  in  the  Preservation  of  Ireland,  licensed  July  17,  1689. 


MlStORV  OF  ENGLAND. 


not  without  grace  and  dignity.  Near  the  cathedral  rose 
the  palace  of  the  bishop,  whose  see  was  one  of  the  most 
valuable  in  Ireland.  The  city  was  in  form  nearly  an  ellipse; 
and  the  principal  streets  formed  a  cross,  the  arms  of  which 
met  in  a  square  called  the  Diamond.  The  original  houses 
have  been  either  rebuilt  or  so  much  repaired  that  their 
ancient  character  can  no  longer  be  traced;  but  many  of 
them  were  standing  within  living  memory.  They  were  in 
general  two  stories  in  height;  and  some  of  them  had  stone 
staircases  on  the  outside.  The  dwellings  were  encompassed 
by  a  wall  of  which  the  whole  circumference  was  little  less 
than  a  mile.  On  the  bastion  were  planted  culverins  and 
sakers  presented  by  the  wealthy  guilds  of  London  to  the 
colony.  On  some  of  these  ancient  guns,  which  have  done 
memorable  service  to  a  great  cause,  the  devices  of  the  Fish- 
mongers* Company,  of  the  Vintners'  Company,  and  of  the 
Merchant  Tailors'  Company  are  still  discernible.* 

The  inhabitants  were  Protestants  of  Anglo-Saxon  blood. 
They  were  indeed  not  all  of  one  country  or  of  one  church; 
but  Englishmen  and  Scotchmen,  Episcopalians  and  Pres- 
byterians, seem  to  have  generally  lived  together  in  friend- 
ship, a  friendship  which  is  sufficiently  explained  by  their 
common  antipathy  to  the  Irish  race-  and  to  the  Popish 
religion.  During  the  rebellion  of  1641,  Londonderry  had 
resolutely  held  out  against  the  native  chieftains  and  had 
been  repeatedly  besieged  in  vain.f  Since  the  Restoration 
the  city  had  prospered.  The  Foyle,  when  the  tide  was 
high,  brought  up  ships  of  large  burden  to  the  quay.  The 
fisheries  throve  greatly.  The  nets,  it  was  said,  were  some- 
times so  full  that  it  was  necessary  to  fling  back  multitudes 
of  fish  into  the  waves.  The  quantity  of  salmon  caught 
annually  was  estimated  at  eleven  hundred  thousand  pounds' 
weight.J 

The  people  of  Londonderry  shared  in  the  alarm  which, 
towards  the  close  of  the  year  1688,  was  general  among  the 
Protestants  settled  in  Ireland.  It  was  known  that  the  ab- 
original peasantry  of  the  neighborhood  were  laying  in 
pikes  and  knives.  Priests  had  been  haranguing  in  a  style 
of  which,  it  must  be  owned,  the  Puritan  part  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  colony  had  little  right  to  complain,  about  the  slaugh- 
ter of  the  Amalekites,  and  the  judgments  which  Saul  had 

*  These  things  I  ODserved  or  learned  on  the  spot. 

t  The  best  account  that  I  have  seen  of  what  passed  in  Londonderry  during  the  war 
which  began  in  1641  is  in  Dr.  Reid's  History  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Ireland, 
$  The  interest  of  England  in  the  Preservation  of  Ireland;  i68j^. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


brought  on  himself  by  sparing  one  of  the  proscribed  race. 
Rumors  from  various  quarters  and  anonymous  letters  in 
various  hands  agreed  in  naming  the  ninth  of  December  as 
the  day  fixed  for  the  extirpation  of  the  strangers.  While 
the  minds  of  the  citizens  were  agitated  by  these  reports, 
news  came  that  a  regiment  of  twelve  hundred  Papists,  com- 
manded by  a  Papist,  Alexander  Macdonnell,  Earl  of  Antrim, 
had  received  orders  from  the  Lord  Deputy  to  occupy  Lon- 
donderry, and  was  already  on  the  march  from  Coleraine. 
The  consternation  was  extreme.  Some  were  for  closing 
the  gates  and  resisting;  some  for  submitting;  some  for 
temporizing.  The  corporation  had,  like  the  other  corpora- 
tions of  Ireland,  been  remodelled.  The  magistrates  were 
men  of  low  station  and  character.  Among  them  was  onl}'- 
one  person  of  Anglo-Saxon  extraction;  and  he  had  turned 
Papist.  In  such  rulers  the  inhabitants  could  place  no  con- 
fidence.* The  Bishop,  Ezekiel  Hopkins,  resolutely  adhered 
to  the  political  doctrines  which  he  had  preached  during 
many  years,  and  exhorted  his  flock  to  go  patiently  to  the 
slaughter,  rather  than  incur  the  guilt  of  disobeying  the 
Lord*s  Annointed.f  Antrim  was  meanwhile  drawing  near- 
er and  nearer.  At  length  the  citizens  saw  from  the  walls 
his  troops  arrayed  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  Foyle. 
There  was  then  no  bridge;  but  there  was  a  ferry  which 
kept  up  a  constant  communication  between  the  two  banks 
of  the  river;  and  by  this  ferry  a  detachment  from  Antrim's 
regiment  crossed.  The  officers  presented  themselves  at 
the  gate,  produced  a  warrant  directed  to  the  Mayor  and 
Sheriffs,  and  demanded  admittance  and  quarters  for  His 
Majesty's  soldiers. 

Just  at  this  moment  thirteen  young  apprentices,  most  of 
whom  appear,  from  their  names,  to  have  been  of  Scottish 

*  My  authority  for  this  unfavorable  account  of  the  corporation  is  an  epic  poem  en- 
titled the  Londeriad.  This  extraordinary  work  must  have  been  written  very  soon  after 
the  events  to  which  it  relates;  for  it  is  dedicated  to  Robert  Rochfort,  Speaker  of  the 
House  of  Commons;  and  Rochfort  was  Speaker  from  1695  to  1699.  The  poet  had  no  in- 
vention; he  had  evidently  a  minute  knowledge  of  the  city  which  he  celebrated;  and  his 
doggerel  is  consequently  not  without  historical  value.    He  says: 

For  burgesses  and  freeman  they  had  chose 
Brogue -makers,  butchers,  raps,  and  such  as  those: 
In  all  the  corporation  not  a  man 
Of  British  parents,  except  Buchanan." 

This  Buchanan  is  afterwards  described: 

"  A  knave  all  o'er: 
For  he  had  learned  to  tell  his  beads  before,'* 

t  See  a  sermon  preached  by  him  at  Dublin  on  Jan.  31.  1669.  The  text  15,  "Submit 
j'ourgelvcs  tp  every  ordinance  of  mai^  for  the  Lord's  sals:^,' 


114 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


birth  or  descent,  flew  to  the  guard-room,  armed  themselves, 
seized  the  keys  of  the  city,  rushed  to  the  Ferry  Gate, 
closed  it  in  the  face  of  the  King's  officers,  and  let  down 
the  portcullis.  James  Morison,  a  citizen  more  advanced 
in  years,  addressed  the  intruders  from  the  top  of  the  wall 
and  advised  them  to  be  gone.  They  stood  in  consultation 
before  the  gate  till  they  heard  him  cry,  "Bring  a  great  gun 
this  way."  They  then  thought  it  time  to  get  beyond  the 
range  of  shot.  They  retreated,  re-embarked,  and  rejoined 
their  comrades  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  The  flame 
had  already  spread.  The  whole  city  was  up.  The  other 
gates  were  secured.  Sentinels  paced  the  ramparts  every- 
where. The  magazines  were  opened.  Muskets  and  gun- 
powder were  distributed.  Messengers  were  sent,  under 
cover  of  the  following  night,  to  the  Protestant  gentlemen 
of  the  neighboring  counties.  The  bishop  expostulated  in 
vain.  It  is  indeed  probable  that  the  vehement  and  daring 
young  Scotchmen  who  had  taken  the  lead  on  this  occasion 
had  little  respect  for  his  office.  One  of  them  broke  in  on 
a  discourse  with  which  he  interrupted  the  military  prepar- 
ations by  exclaiming,  "A  good  sermon,  my  lord;  a  very 
good  sermon:  but  we  have  not  time  to  hear  it  just  now."* 

The  Protestants  of  the  neighborhood  promptly  obeyed 
the  summons  of  Londonderry.  Within  forty-eight  hours, 
hundreds  of  horse  and  foot  came  by  various  roads  to  the 
city.  Antrim,  not  thinking  himself  strong  enough  to  risk 
an  attack,  or  not  disposed  to  take  on  himself  the  responsi- 
bility of  commencing  a  civil  war  without  further  orders, 
retired  with  his  troops  to  Coleraine. 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  the  resistance  of  Ennis- 
killen  and  Londonderry  would  have  irritated  Tyrconnel 
into  taking  some  desperate  step.  And  in  truth  his  savage 
and  imperious  temper  was  at  first  inflamed  by  the  news 
almost  to  madness.  But,  after  wreaking  his  rage,  as  usual, 
on  his  wig,  he  became  somewhat  calmer.  Tidings  of  a 
very  sobering  nature  had  just  reached  him.  The  Prince 
of  Orange  was  marching  unopposed  to  London.  Almost 
every  county  and  every  great  town  in  England  had  de- 
clared for  him.  James,  deserted  by  his  ablest  captains, 
and  by  his  nearest  relatives,  had  sent  commissioners  to 

*  Walker's  Account  of  the  Siege  of  Derry,  1689;  Mackenzie's  Narrative  of  the  Siege 
of  Londonderry,  1689;  Ah  Apology  for  the  failures  charged  on  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Walker's  Account  of  the  late  Siege  of  Derry,  1689;  A  Light  to  the  Blind.  This  last 
work,  a  manusjcript  in  the  possession  of  Lord  Fingal,  is  the  work  of  a  zealous  Roman 
Catholic  and  a  mortal  enemy  of  England.  Large  extracts  from  it  are  among  the  M^Qk" 
iijtosh  MSS.    The  date  in  the  title-page  is  1711, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


treat  with  the  invaders,  and  had  issued  writs  convoking  a 
Parliament.  While  the  result  of  the  negotiations  which 
were  pending  in  England  was  uncertain,  the  Viceroy  could 
not  venture  to  take  a  bloody  revenge  on  the  refractory 
Protestants  of  Ireland.  He  therefore  thought  it  expedient 
to  affect  a  clemency  and  moderation  which  were  by  no 
means  congenial  to  his  disposition.  The  task  of  quieting 
the  Englishry  of  Ulster  was  entrusted  to  William  Stewart, 
Viscount  Monntjoy.  Mountjoy,  a  brave  soldier,  an  accom- 
plished scholar,  a  zealous  Protestant,  and  yet  a  zealous 
Tory,  was  one  of  the  very  few  members  of  the  Established 
Church  who  still  held  office  in  Ireland.  He  v;as  Master  of 
the  Ordnance  in  that  kingdom,  and  was  colonel  of  a  regi- 
ment in  which  an  uncommonly  large  proportion  of  the  Eng- 
lisry  had  been  suffered  to  remain.  At  Dublin  he  was  the 
center  of  a  small  circle  of  learned  and  ingenious  men  who 
had,  under  his  presidency,  formed  themselves  into  a  Royal 
society,  the  image,  on  a  small  scale,  of  the  Royal  Society 
of  London.  In  Ulster,  with  which  he  was  peculiarly  con- 
nected, his  name  was  held  in  high  honor  by  the  colonists.* 
He  hastened  with  his  regiment  to  Londonderry  and  was 
well  received  there.  For  it  was  known  that  though  he  was 
firmly  attached  to  hereditary  monarchy  he  was  not  less 
firmly  attached  to  the  reformed  religion.  The  citizens 
readily  permitted  him  to  leave  within  their  walls  a  small 
garrison  exclusively  composed  of  Protestants,  under  the 
command  of  his  lieutenant-colonel,  Robert  Lundy,  who 
took  the  title  of  Governor.f 

The  news  of  Mountjoy's  visit  to  Ulster  was  highly  grat- 
ifying to  the  defenders  of  Enniskillen.  Some  gentlemen, 
deputed  by  that  town,  waited  on  him  to  request  his  good 
offices,  but  were  disappointed  by  the  reception  which  they 
found.  ^*My  advice  to  you  is,"  he  said,  to  submit  to  the 
King's  authority.'*  "What,  my  Lord?"  said  one  of  the 
deputies;  "Are  we  to  sit  still  and  let  ourselves  be  butch- 
ered ?"  "  The  King,"  said  Mountjoy,  "  will  protect  you." 
"If  all  that  we  hear  be  true,"  said  the  deputy,  "His 
Majesty  will  find  it  hard  enough  to  protect  himself."  The 
conference  ended  in  this  unsatisfactory  manner.  Ennis- 
killen still  kept  its  attitude  of  defiance;  and  Mountjoy 
returned  to  Dublin. J 

*  As  rt)  Mountjoy's  character  and  position,  see  Clarendon's  letters  from  Ireland,  par- 
ticularly that  to  Lord  Dartmouth  of  Feb.  8,  and  that  to  Evelyn  of  Feb.  14,  1685-6. 
''Bon  ofificier,  et  homme  d'esprit,"  says  Avaux. 

t  Walker's  Account;  Light  to  the  Blind. 

1^  MacCormick's  Further  Impartial  Account, 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


By  this  time  it  had  indeed  become  evident  that  James 
could  not  protect  himself.  It  was  known  in  Ireland  that 
he  had  fled;  that  he  had  been  stopped;  that  he  had  fled 
again;  that  the  Prince  of  Orange  had  arrived  at  Westmin- 
ster in  triumph,  had  taken  on  himself  the  administration 
of  the  realm,  and  had  issued  letters  summoning  a  Con- 
vention. 

Those  lords  and  gentlemen  at  whose  request  the  Prince 
had  assumed  the  government,  had  earnestly  entreated  him 
to  take  the  state  of  Ireland  into  his  immediate  considera- 
tion; and  he  had,  in  reply,  assured  them  that  he  would  do 
his  best  to  maintain  the  Protestant  religion  and  the  Eng- 
lish interest  in  that  kingdom.  His  enemies  afterwards 
accused  him  of  utterly  disregarding  this  promise;  nay, 
they  alleged,  that  he  purposely  suffered  Ireland  to  sink 
deeper  and  deeper  in  calamity.  Halifax,  they  said,  had, 
with  cruel  and  perfidious  ingenuity,  devised  this  mode  of 
placing  the  Convention  under  a  species  of  duress;  and  the 
trick  had  succeeded  but  too  well.  The  vote  which  called 
William  to  the  throne  would  not  have  passed  so  easily  but 
for  the  extreme  dangers  which  threatened  the  state;  and 
it  was  in  consequence  of  his  own  dishonest  inactivity  that 
those  dangers  had  become  extreme.*  As  this  accusation 
rests  on  no  proof,  those  who  repeat  it  are  at  least  bound  to 
show  that  some  course  clearly  better  than  the  course  which 
William  took  was  open  to  him;  and  this  they  will  find  a 
difficult  task.  If  indeed  he  could,  within  a  few  weeks  after 
his  arrival  in  London,  have  sent  a  great  expedition  to  Ire- 
land, that  kingdom  might  perhaps,  after  a  short  struggle, 
or  without  a  struggle,  have  submitted  to  his  authority; 
and  a  long  series  of  crimes  and  calamities  might  have 
been  averted.  But  the  factious  orators  and  pamphleteers, 
livho,  much  at  their  ease,  reproached  him  for  not  sending 
0uch  an  expedition,  would  have  been  perplexed  if  they  had 
been  required  to  find  the  men,  the  ships,  and  the  funds. 
The  English  army  had  lately  been  arrayed  against  him: 
part  of  it  was  still  ill-disposed  towards  him;  and  the  whole 
was  utterly  disorganized.  Of  the  army  which  he  had 
brought  from  Holland,  not  a  regiment  could  be  spared. 
He  had  found  the  treasury  empty  and  the  pay  of  the  navy 
in  arrear.  He  had  no  power  to  hypothecate  any  part  of 
the  public  revenue.    Those  who  lent  him  money  lent  it  on 


♦  Burnet,  i.  807;  and  the  notes  by  Swift  and  Dartmouth.  Tutchin,  in  the  Obserrfttor, 
repeats  this  idle  calumny. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


117 


no  other  security  than  his  bare  word.  It  was  only  by  the 
patriotic  liberality  of  the  merchants  of  London  that  he  was 
enabled  to  defray  the  ordinary  charges  of  government  till 
the  meeting  of  the  Convention.  It  is  surely  unjust  to 
blame  him  for  not  instantly  fitting  out,  in  such  circum- 
stances, an  armament  sufficient  to  conquer  a  kingdom. 

Perceiving  that,  till  the  government  of  England  was 
settled,  it  would  not  be  in  his  power  to  interfere  effectu- 
ally by  arms  in  the  affairs  of  Ireland,  he  determined  to  try 
what  effect  negotiation  would  produce.  Those  who  judged 
after  the  event  pronounced  that  he  had  not,  on  this  occa- 
sion, shown  his  usual  sagacity.  He  ought,  they  said,  to 
have  known  that  it  was  absurd  to  expect  submission  from 
Tyrconnel.  Such,  however,  was  not,  at  the  time,  the 
opinion  of  men  who  had  the  best  means  of  information, 
and  whose  interest  was  a  sufficient  pledge  for  their  sincer- 
ity. A  great  meeting  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen  who 
had  property  in  Ireland  was  held,  during  the  interregnum, 
at  the  house  of  the  Duke  of  Ormond  in  St.  James's  Square. 
They  advised  the  Prince  to  try  whether  the  Lord  Deputy 
might  not  be  induced  to  capitulate  on  honorable  and  advan- 
tageous terms. ^  In  truth  there  is  strong  reason  to  believe 
that  Tyrconnel  really  wavered.  For,  fierce  as  were  his  pas- 
sions^  they  never  made  him  forgetful  of  his  interest;  and  he 
might  well  doubt  whether  it  were  not  for  his  interest,  in 
declining  years  and  health,  to  retire  from  business  with  full 
indemnity  for  all  past  offences,  with  high  rank,  and  with 
an  ample  fortune,  rather  than  to  stake  his  life  and  prop- 
erty on  the  event  of  a  war  against  the  whole  power  of 
England.  It  is  certain  that  he  professed  himself  willing  to 
yield.  He  opened  a  communication  with  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  and  affected  to  take  counsel  with  Mountjoy,  and 
with  others  who,  though  they  had  not  thrown  off  their  alle- 
giance to  James,  were  yet  firmly  attached  to  the  Estab- 
lished Church  and  to  the  English  connection. 

In  one  quarter,  a  quarter  from  which  William  was  jus- 
tified in  expecting  the  most  judicious  counsel,  there  was  a 
strong  conviction  that  the  professions  of  Tyrconnel  were 
sincere.  No  British  statesman  had  then  so  high  a  reputa- 
tion throughout  Europe  as  Sir  William  Temple.  His 
diplomatic  skill  had,  twenty  years  before,  arrested  the 
progress  of  the  French  power.  He  had  been  a  steady  and 
a  useful  friend   to  the  United  Provinces  and  to  the  House 


*  The  Orange  Gazette,  Jan.  10,  1689. 


ii8 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


of  Nassau.  He  had  long  been  on  terms  of  friendly  confi- 
dence with  the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  had  negotiated  that 
marriage  to  which  England  owed  her  recent  deliverance. 
With  the  affairs  of  Ireland  Temple  was  supposed  to  be  pe- 
culiarly well  acquainted.  His  family  had  considerable 
property  there:  he  had  himself  resided  there  during  sev- 
eral years:  he  had  represented  the  county  of  Carlow  in 
Parliament;  and  a  large  part  of  his  income  was  derived 
from  a  lucrative  Irish  office.  There  was  no  height  of 
power,  of  rank,  or  of  opulence  to  which  he  might  not  have 
risen,  if  he  would  have  consented  to  quit  his  retreat,  and 
to  lend  his  assistance  and  the  weight  of  his  name  to  the 
new  government.  But  power,  rank  and  opulence  had  less 
attraction  for  his  epicurean  temper  than  ease  and  security. 
He  rejected  the  most  tempting  invitations,  and  continued 
to  amuse  himself  with  his  books,  his  tulips,  and  his  pine- 
apples, in  rural  seclusion.  With  some  hesitation,  however^ 
he  consented  to  let  his  eldest  son,  John,  enter  into  the  ser- 
vice of  William.  During  the  vacancy  of  the  throne,  John 
Temple  was  employed  in  business  of  high  importance;  and 
on  subjects  connected  with  Ireland,  his  opinion,  which 
might  reasonably  be  supposed  to  agree  with  his  father's, 
had  great  weight.  The  young  politician  flattered  himself 
that  he  had  secured  the  services  of  an  agent  eminently 
qualified  to  bring  the  negotiation  with  Tyrconnel  to  a  pros- 
perous issue. 

This  agent  was  one  of  a  remarkable  family  which  had 
sprung  from  a  noble  Scottish  stock,  but  which  had  long 
been  settled  in  Ireland  and  which  professed  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion.  In  the  gay  crowd  which  thronged 
Whitehall,  during  those  scandalous  years  of  jubilee  which 
immediately  followed  the  Restoration,  the  Hamiltons  were 
pre-eminently  conspicuous.  The  long  fair  ringlets,  the 
radiant  bloom,  and  the  languishing  blue  eyes  of  the  lovely 
Elizabeth  still  charm  us  on  the  canvas  of  Lely.  She  had 
the  glory  of  achieving  no  vulgat  conquest.  It  was  reserved 
for  her  voluptuous  beauty  and  for  her  flippant  wit  to  over- 
come the  aversion  which  the  cold-hearted  and  scoffing 
Grammont  felt  for  the  indissoluble  tie.  One  of  her  broth- 
ers, Anthony,  became  the  chronicler  of  that  brilliant  and 
dissolute  society  of  which  he  had  been  not  the  least  bril- 
liant nor  the  least  dissolute  member.  He  deserves  the 
high  praise  of  having,  though  not  a  Frenchman,  written 
the  book  which  is,  of  all  books,  the  most  exquisitely  French, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


both  in  Spirit  and  in  manner.  Another  brother,  named 
Richard,  had,  in  foreign  service,  gained  some  military  ex- 
perience. His  wit  and  politeness  had  distinguished  him 
even  in  the  splendid  circle  of  Versailles.  It  v^as  whispered 
that  he  had  dared  to  lift  his  eyes  to  an  exalted  lady,  the 
natural  daughter  of  the  Great  King,  the  wife  of  a  legiti- 
mate prince  of  the  House  of  Bourbon,  and  that  she  had 
not  seemed  to  be  displeased  by  the  attentions  of  her  pre- 
fcumptuous  admirer."^  Richard  had  subsequently  returned 
to  his  native  country,  had  been  appointed  brigadier-gen- 
eral  in  the  Irish  army,  and  had  been  sworn  of  the  Irish 
Privy  Council.  When  the  Dutch  invasion  was  expected,  he 
came  across  Saint  George's  channel  with  the  troops  which 
Tyrconnel  sent  to  reinforce  the  royal  army.  After  the 
flight  of  James,  those  troops  submitted  to  the  Prince  of 
Orange.  Richard  Hamilton  not  only  made  his  own  peace 
with  what  was  now  the  ruling  power,  but  declared  himself 
confident  that,  if  he  were  sent  to  Dublin,  he  could  conduct 
the  negotiation  which  had  been  opened  there  to  a  happy 
close.  If  he  failed,  he  pledged  his  word  to  return  to  Lon- 
don in  three  weeks.  His  influence  in  Ireland  was  known 
to  be  great:  his  honor  had  never  been  questioned;  and  he 
was  highly  esteemed  by  John  Temple.  The  young  states- 
man declared  that  he  would  answer  for  his  friend  Richard 
as  for  himself.  This  guarantee  was  thought  sufficient;  and 
Hamilton  set  out  for  Ireland,  proclaiming  everywhere  that 
he  should  soon  bring  Tyrconnel  to  reason.  The  offers 
which  he  was  authorized  to  make  to  the  Roman  Catholic? 
and  personally  to  the  Lord  Deputy  were  most  liberal. f 

It  is  not  impossible  that  Hamilton  may  have  really 
meant  to  keep  his  promise.  But  when  he  arrived  at  Dub- 
hn  he  found  that  he  had  undertaken  a  task  which  he  could 
not  perform.  The  hesitation  of  Tyrconnel,  whether  genu- 
ine or  feigned,  was  at  an  end.  He  had  found  that  he  had 
no  longer  a  choice.  He  had  with  little  difficulty  stimu- 
lated the  ignorant  and  susceptible  Irish  to  fury.  To  calm 
them  was  beyond  his  skill.  Rumors  were  abroad  that  the 
Viceroy  was  corresponding  with  the  English;  and  those 
rumors  had  set  the  nation  on  fire.  The  cry  of  the  com- 
mon people  was  that,  if  he  dared  to  sell  them  for  wealth 
and  honors,  they  would  burn  the  Castle  and  him  in  it,  and 


♦  Memoires  de  Madame  de  la  Fayette. 

t  Burnet,  i.  $08;  Life  of  James,  ii.  320;  Commons'  Journals,  July  29,  i68^, 


120 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


would  put  themselves  under  the  protection  of  France.* 
It  was  necessary  for  him  to  protest,  truly  or  falsely,  that 
he  had  never  harbored  any  thought  of  submission,  and 
that  he  had  pretended  to  negotiate  only  for  the  purpose 
of  gaining  time.  Yet  before  he  openly  declared  against 
the  English  settlers,  and  against  England  herself,  what 
must  be  a  war  to  the  death,  he  wished  to  rid  himself  of 
Mountjoy,  who  had  hitherto  been  true  to  the  cause  of 
James,  but  who,  it  was  well  known,  would  never  consent 
to  be  a  party  to  the  spoliation  and  oppression  of  the  colo- 
nists. Hypocritical  professions  of  friendship  and  of  pacific 
intentions  were  not  spared.  It  was  a  sacred  duty,  Tyrcon- 
nel  said,  to  avert  the  calamities  which  seemed  to  be  im- 
pending. King  James  himself,  if  he  understood  the  whole 
case,  would  not  wish  his  Irish  friends  to  engage  at  that 
moment  in  an  enterprise  which  must  be  fatal  to  them  and 
useless  to  him.  He  would  permit  them,  he  would  com- 
mand them,  to  submit  to  necessity,  and  to  reserve  them- 
selves for  better  times.  If  any  man  of  weight,  any  man  loyal, 
able,  and  well  informed,  would  repair  to  Saint  Germains 
and  explain  the  state  of  things,  His  Majesty  would  easily 
be  convinced.  Would  Mountjoy  undertake  this  most  hon- 
orable and  important  mission?  Mountjoy  hesitated,  and 
suggested  that  some  person  more  likely  to  be  acceptable 
to  the  King  should  be  the  messenger.  Tyrconnel  swore, 
ranted,  declared  that,  unless  King  James  were  well  ad- 
vised, Ireland  would  sink  to  the  pit  of  hell,  and  insisted 
that  Mountjoy  should  go  as  the  representative  of  the  loyal 
members  of  the  Established  Church,  and  should  be  ac- 
companied by  Chief  Baron  Rice,  a  Roman  Catholic  high 
in  the  royal  favor.  Mountjoy  yielded.  The  two  ambas- 
sadors departed  together,  but  with  very  different  commis- 
sions. Rice  was  charged  to  tell  James  that  Mountjoy  was 
a  traitor  at  heart,  and  had  been  sent  to  France  only  that 
the  Protestants  of  Ireland  might  be  deprived  of  a  favorite 
leader.  The  King  was  to  be  assured  that  he  was  impa- 
tiently expected  in  Ireland,  and  that,  if  he  would  show 
himself  there  with  a  French  force,  he  might  speedily  re- 
trieve his  fallen  fortunes. f  The  Chief  Baron  carried  with 
him  other  instructions  which  were  probably  kept  secret 


April  L  ^' 

t  Clarke's  Life  of  James,  ii.  331-  Mountjoy's  Circular  Letter,  dated  Jan.  10,  1688-9; 
King,  iv.  8.    In  Light  to  the  Blind,  Tyrconners  ''wise  dissimulation"  is  commended. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


121 


even  from  the  Court  of  Saint  Germains.  If  James  should 
be  unwilling  to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  native  pop- 
ulation of  Ireland,  Rice  was  directed  to  request  a  private 
audience  of  Lewis,  and  to  offer  to  make  the  island  a  pro- 
vince of  France.* 

-  As  soon  as  the  two  envoys  had  departed,  Tyrconnel  set 
himself  to  prepare  for  the  conflict  which  had  become  in- 
evitable; and  he  was  strenuously  assisted  by  the  faithless 
Hamilton.  The  Irish  nation  was  called  to  arms;  and  the 
call  was  obeyed  with  strange  promptitude  and  enthusiasm. 
The  flag  on  the  Castle  of  Dublin  was  embroidered  with 
the  words,  ^^Now  or  never!  Now  and  forever!"  Those 
words  resounded  through  the  whole  island. f  Never  in 
modern  Europe  has  there  been  such  a  rising  up  of  a  whole 
people.  The  habits  of  the  Celtic  peasant  were  such  that 
he  made  no  sacrifice  in  quitting  his  potato  ground  for  the 
camp.  He  loved  excitement  and  adventure.  He  feared 
work  far  more  than  danger.  His  national  and  religious 
feelings  had,  during  three  years,  been  exasperated  by  the 
constant  application  of  stimulants.  At  every  fair  and 
market  he  had  heard  that  a  good  time  was  at  hand,  that 
the  tyrants  who  spoke  Saxon  and  lived  in  slated  houses 
were  about  to  be  swept  away,  and  that  the  land  would 
again  belong  to  its  own  children.  By  the  peat  fires  of  a 
hundred  thousand  cabins  had  nightly  been  sung  rude  bal- 
lads which  predicted  the  deliverance  of  the  oppressed 
race.  The  priests,  most  of  whom  belonged  to  those  old 
families  which  the  Act  of  Settlement  had  ruined,  but  which 
were  still  revered  by  the  native  population,  had,  from  a 
thousand  altars,  charged  every  Catholic  to  show  his  zeal 
for  the  true  Church  by  providing  weapons  against  the  day 
when  it  might  be  necessary  to  try  the  chances  of  battle  in 
her  cause. J  The  army,  which,  under  Ormond,  had  consis- 
ted of  only  eight  regiments,  was  now  increased  to  forty- 
eight:  and  the  ranks  were  soon  full  to  overflowing.  It  was 
impossible  to  find  at  short  notice  one  tenth  of  the  number 
of  good  officers  which  was  required.  Commissions  were 
scattered  profusely  among  idle  cosherers  who  claimed  to 


♦  Avaux  to  Lewis,  April  13-23,  1689. 

t  Printed  Letter  from  Dublin,  Feb.  25,  1689;  Mephibosheth  and  Ziba,  1689. 

$  The  connection  of  the  priests  with  the  old  Irish  families  is  mentioned  in  Petty's 
Political  Anatomy  of  Ireland.  See  the  short  view  by  a  Clergyman  lately  escaped,  1689; 
Ireland's  Lamentation,  by  an  English  Protestant  that  lately  narrowly  escaped  with  life 
from  thence,  i68g;  A  True  Account  of  the  State  of  Ireland,  by  a  person  who  with  Great 
Difficulty  left  Dublin,  1689;  King,  ii.  7.  Avaux  confirms  all  that  these  writers  say  about 
the  Irish  officers. 

Vol.  m-d 


132 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


be  descended  from  good  Irish  families.  Yet  even  thus  the 
supply  of  captains  and  lieutenants  fell  short  of  the  de- 
mand; and  many  companies  were  commanded  by  cobblers, 
tailors,  and  footmen. 

The  pay  of  the  soldiers  was  very  small.  The  private 
had  no  more  than  three  pence  a  day.  One  half  only  of 
this  pittance  was  ever  given  him  in  money;  and  that  half 
was  often  in  arrear.  But  a  far  more  seductive  bait  than 
his  miserable  stipend  was  the  prospect  of  boundless  li- 
cense. If  the  government  allowed  him  less  than  sufficed 
for  his  wants,  it  was  not  extreme  to  mark  the  means  by 
which  he  supplied  the  deficiency.  Though  four-fifths  of 
the  population  of  Ireland  were  Celtic  and  Roman  Catholic, 
more  than  four-fifths  of  the  property  of  Ireland  belonged  to 
the  Protestant  Englishry.  The  garners,  the  cellars,  above 
all  the  flocks  and  herds  of  the  minority,  were  abandoned 
to  the  majority.  Whatever  the  regular  troops  spared  was 
devoured  by  bands  of  marauders  who  overran  almost  every 
barony  in  the  island.  For  the  arming  was  now  universal. 
No  man  dared  to  present  himself  at  mass  without  some 
weapon,  a  pike,  a  long  knife  called  a  skean,  or,  at  the  very 
least,  a  strong  ashen  stake,  pointed  and  hardened  in  the 
fire.  The  very  women  were  exhorted  by  their  spiritual 
directors  to  carry  skeans.  Every  smith,  every  carpenter, 
every  cutler,  was  at  constant  work  on  guns  and  blades.  It 
was  scarcely  possible  to  get  a  horse  shod.  If  any  Protest- 
ant artisan  refused  to  assist  in  the  manufacture  of  imple- 
ments which  were  to  be  used  against  his  nation  and  his 
religion,  he  was  flung  into  prison.  It  seems  probable  that, 
at  the  end  of  February,  at  least  a  hundred  thousand  Irish- 
men were  in  arms.  Near  fifty  thousand  of  them  were  sol- 
diers.* The  1  est  were  banditti,  whose  violence  and  licen- 
tiousness the  government  affected  to  disapprove,  but  did 
not  really  exert  itself  to  suppress.  The  Protestants  not 
only  were  not  protected,  but  were  not  suffered  to  protect 
themselves.  It  was  determined  that  they  should  be  left 
unarmed  in  the  midst  of  an  armed  and  hostile  population. 

*  At  the  French  War  Office  is  a  report  on  the  State  of  Ireland  in  February,  1689.  In 
that  report  it  is  said  that  the  Irish  who  had  enlisted  as  soldiers  were,  forty-five  thousand, 
and  that  the  number  would  have  been  a  hundred  thousand  if  all  who  volunteered  had 
been  admitted.  See  the  Sad  and  Lamentable  Condition  of  the  Protestants  in  Ireland,  1689; 
Hamilton's  True  Relation,  1690;  The  State  of  Papist  and  Protestant  Properties  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Ireland,  1689;  A  True  Representation  to  the  King  and  People  of  Eng- 
land, how  Matters  were  carried  on  a]l  alc.ng  in  Ireland,  licensed  Aug.  16,  1689;  Letter 
from  Dublin,  1689:  Ireland's  Lamentation,  1689;  Compleat  History  of  the  Life  and  Mili- 
tary Actions  of  Richard,  Earl  of  Tyrconnel,  Generalissimo  of  the  Irish  forges  now  io 
arms,  1689. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


123 


A  day  was  fixed  on  which  they  were  to  bring  all  their 
swords  and  firelocks  to  the  parish  churches;  and  it  was 
notified  that  every  Protestant  house  in  which,  after  that 
day,  a  weapon  should  be  found  should  be  given  up  to  be 
sacked  by  the  soldiers.  Bitter  complaints  were  made  that 
any  knave  might,  by  hiding  a  spearhead  or  an  old  gun- 
barrel  in  a  corner  of  a  mansion,  bring  utter  ruin  on  the 
owner. 

Chief  Justice  Keating,  himself  a  Protestant,  and  almost 
the  only  Protestant  who  still  held  a  great  place  in  Ireland, 
struggled  courageously  in  the  cause  of  justice  and  order 
against  the  united  strength  of  the  government  and  the 
populace.  At  the  Wicklow  Assizes  of  that  spring,  he, 
from  the  seat  of  judgment,  set  forth  with  great  strength  of 
language  the  miserable  state  of  ihe  country.  Whole  coun- 
ties, he  said,  were  devastated  by  a  rabble  resembling  the 
Vultures  and  ravens  which  follow  the  march  of  an  army. 
Most  of  these  wretches  were  not  soldiers.  They  acted 
under  no  authority  known  to  the  law.  Yet  it  was,  he 
owned,  but  too  evident  that  they  were  encouraged  and 
screened  by  some  who  were  in  high  comma'nd.  How  else 
could  it  be  that  a  market  overt  for  plunder  should  be  held 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  capital?  The  stories  which 
travellers  told  of  the  savage  Hottentots  near  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope  were  realized  in  Leinster.  Nothing  was  more 
common  than  for  an  honest  man  to  lie  down  rich  in  flocks 
and  herds  acquired  by  the  industry  of  a  long  life,  and  to 
wake  a  beggar.  It  was,  however,  to  small  purpose  that. 
Keating  attempted,  in  the  midst  of  that  fearful  anarchy, 
to  uphold  the  supremacy  of  the  law.  Priests  and  military 
chiefs  appeared  on  the  bench  for  the  purpose  of  overawing 
the  judge  and  countenancing  the  robbers.  One  ruffian 
escaped  because  no  prosecutor  dared  to  appear.  Another 
declared  that  he  had  armed  himself  in  conformity  to  the 
orders  of  his  spiritual  guide,  and  to  the  example  of  many 
persons  of  higher  station  than  himself,  whom  he  saw  at 
that  moment  in  court.  Two  only  of  the  Merry  Boys,  as 
they  were  called,  were  convicted:  the  worst  criminals 
escaped;  and  the  Chief  Justice  indignantly  told  the  jury- 
men that  the  guilt  of  the  public  ruin  lay  at  their  door.* 

When  such  disorder  prevailed  in  Wicklow,  it  is  easy  to 
imagine  what  must  have  been  the  state  of  districts  naore 
barbarous  and  more  remote  from  the  seat  of  government. 


*  See  the  Proceedings  in  the  State  Trials, 


124 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


Keating  appears  to  have  been  the  only  magistrate  who 
strenuously  exerted  himself  to  put  the  law  in  force.  In- 
deed Nugent,  the  Chief  Justice  of  the  highest  criminal 
court  of  the  realm,  declared  on  the  bench  of  Cork  that, 
without  violence  and  spoliation,  the  intentions  of  the  gov- 
ernment could  not  be  carried  into  effect,  and  that  robbery 
must,  at  that  conjuncture,  be  tolerated  as  a  necessary 
evil.^ 

The  destruction  of  property  which  took  place  within  a 
few  weeks  would  be  incredible,  if  it  were  not  attested  by 
witnesses  unconnected  with  each  other  and  attached  to 
very  different  interests.    There  is  a  close,  and  sometimes 
almost  a  verbal,  agreement  between  the  descriptions  given 
by  Protestants,  who,  d  uring  that  reign  of  terror^  escaped, 
at  the  hazard  of  their  lives,  to  England,  and  the  descrip- 
tions given  by  the  envoys,  commissaries,  and  captains  of 
Lewis.    All  agreed  in  declaring  that  it  would  take  many 
years  to  repair  the  waste  which  had  been  wrought  in  a 
few  weeks  by  the  armed  peasantry.f    Some  of  the  Saxon 
aristocracy  had  mansions  richly  furnished,  and  sideboards 
gorgeous  with  silver  bowls  and  chargers.    All  this  w^ealth 
disappeared.     One  house,  in  which  there  had  been  three 
thousand  pounds'  worth  of  plate,  was  left  without  a  spoon.  J 
But  the  chief  riches  of  Ireland  consisted  in  cattle.  Innu- 
merable flocks  and  herds  covered  that  vast  expanse  of 
emerald  meadow,  saturated  with    the  moisture  of  the 
Atlantic.     More  than  one  gentleman  possessed  twenty 
thousand  sheep  and  four  thousand  oxen.    The  freebooters 
who  now  overspread  the  country  belonged  to  a  class  which 
was  accustomed  to  live  on  potatoes  and  sour  whey,  and 
which  had  always  regarded  meat  as  a  luxury  reserved  for 
the  rich.    These  men  at  first  revelled  in  beef  and  mutton, 
as  the  savage  invaders,  who  of  old  poured  down  from  the 
forests  of  the  north  on  Italy,  revelled  in  Massic  and  Faler- 
nian  wines.    The  Protestants  described  with  contemptuous 
disgust  the  strange  gluttony  of  their  newly  liberated  slaves. 
Carcasses,  half  raw  and  half  burned  to  cinders,  sometimes 
still  bleeding,  sometimes  in  a  state  of  loathsome  decay, 
were  torn  to  pieces,  and  swallowed  without  salt,  bread,  or 
herbs.  Those  marauders  who  preferred  boiled  meat,  being 
often  in  want  of  kettles,  contrived  to  cook  the  steer  in  his 

*  King,  iii,  lo. 

t  Ten  years,  says  the  French  Ambassador;  twenty  years,  says  a  Protestant  fugitive, 
$  Animadversions  on  the  proposal  for  sending  back  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  Ireland, 
1689-90. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


own  skin.  An  absurd  tragi-comedy  is  still  extant,  which 
was  acted,  in  tliis  and  the  following  year,  at  some  low 
theater,  for  the  amusement  of  the  English  populace.  A 
crowd  of  half-naked  savages  appeared  on  the  stage,  howl- 
ing a  Celtic  song  and  dancing  round  an  ox.  They  then 
proceeded  to  cut  steaks  out  of  the  animal  while  still  alive, 
and  to  fling  the  bleeding  flesh  on  the  coals.  In  truth  the 
barbarity  and  filthiness  of  the  banquets  of  the  Rapparees 
was  such  as  the  dramatists  of  Grub  Street  could  scarcely  car- 
icature. When  Lent  began,the  plunderers  generally  ceased 
to  devour,  but  continued  to  destroy.  A  peasant  would  kill 
a  cow  merely  in  order  to  get  a  pair  of  brogues.  Often  a 
whole  flock  of  sheep,  often  a  herd  of  fifty  or  sixty  kine, 
were  slaughtered;  the  beasts  were  flayed;  the  fleeces  and 
hides  were  carried  away;  and  the  bodies  were  left  to  poison 
the  air.  The  French  ambassador  reported  to  his  master 
that,  in  six  weeks,  fifty  thousand  horned  cattle  had  been 
slain  in  this  manner,  and  were  rotting  oa  the  ground  all 
over  the  country.  The  number  of  sheep  that  were  butch- 
ered during  the  same  time  was  popularly  said  to  have 
been  three  or  four  hundred  thousand. 

Any  estimate  which  can  now  be  framed  of  the  value  of 
the  property  destroyed  dunng  this  fearful  conflict  of  races 
must  necessarily  be  very  inexact.  We  are  not  however  ab- 
solutely without  materials  for  such  an  estimate.  The 
Quakers  were  neither  a  very  numerous  nor  a  very  opulent 
class.  We  can  hardly  suppose  that  they  were  more  than  a 
fiftieth  part  of  the  Protestant  population  of  Ireland,  or  that 
they  possessed  more  than  a  fiftieth  part  of  the  Protestant 
wealth  of  Ireland.  They  were  undoubtedly  better  treated 
than  any  other  Protestant  sect.  James  had  always  been 
partial  to  them;  they  own  that  Tyrconnel  did  his  best  to 

*  King,  iii.  lo;  The  Sad  Estate  and  Condition  of  Ireland,  as  represented  in  a  Letter 
from  a  worthy  Person  who  was  in  Dublin  on  Friday  last,  March  4,  1689;  Short  View  by 
a  Clergyman,  1689;  Lamentation  of  Ireland,  1689;  Compleat  History  of  the  Life  and 
Actions  of  Richard,  Earl  of  Tyrconnel,  1689;  The  Royal  Voyage,  acted  in  1689  and  1690. 
This  drama,  which,  I  believe,  was  performed  at  Bartholomew  Fair,  is  one  of  the  most 
curious  of  a  curious  class  of  compositions,  utterly  destitute  of  literary  merit,  but  valuable 
as  showing  what  were  then  the  most  successful  claptraps  for  an  audience  composed  of 
the  common  people.  "The  end  of  this  play,"  says  the  author  in  his  preface,  "is  chiefly 
to  expose  the  perfidious,  base,  cowardly,  and  bloody  nature  of  the  Irish."  The  account 
which  the  fugitive  Protestants  give  of  the  wanton  destruction  of  cattle  is  confirmed  by 
Avaux  in  a  letter  to  Lewis,  dated  April  13-23,  1689,  and  by  Desgrigny  in  a  letter  to  Lou- 
vois,  dated  May  17-27,  1690.  Most  of  the  despatches  written  by  Avaux  during  his  mis- 
sion to  Ireland  are  contained  in  a  volume  of  which  a  very  few  copies  were  printed  some 
years  ago  at  the  English  Foreign  Office.  Of  many  I  have  also  copies  made  at  the 
French  Foreign  Office.  The  letters  of  Desgrigny,  who  was  employed  in  the  Commis- 
sariat, I  found  in  the  Library  of  the  French  War  Office.  I  cannot  too  strongly  express 
my  sense  of  the  liberality  and  courtesy  with  which  the  immense  and  ad  mirably  arranged 
Storehouses  of  curious  information  at  Paris  were  thrown  open  to  me, 


t26 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


protect  them:  and  they  seem  to  have  found  favor  even  in 
the  sight  of  the  Rapparees.*  Yet  the  Quakers  computed 
their  pecuniary  losses  at  a  hundred  thousand  pounds. f 

In  Leinster,  Munster,  and  Connaught,  it  was  utterly 
impossible  for  the  English  settlers,  few  as  they  were  and 
dispersed,  to  offer  any  effectual  resistance  to  this  terrible 
outbreak  of  the  aboriginal  population.  Charleville,  Mal- 
low, Sligow,  fell  mto  the  hands  of  the  natives.  Bandon, 
where  the  Protestants  had  mustered  in  considerable  force, 
was  reduced  by  Lieutenant  General  Macarthy,  an  Irish 
officer  who  was  descended  from  one  of  the  most  illustrious- 
Celtic  houses,  and  who  had  long  served,  under  a  feigned 
name,  in  the  French  army. J  The  people  of  Kenmare  held 
out  in  their  little  fastness  till  they  were  attacked  by  three 
thousand  regular  soldiers,  and  till  it  was  known  that  sev- 
eral pieces  of  ordnance  were  coming  to  batter  down  the 
turf  wall  which  surrounded  the  agent's  house.  Then  at 
length  a  capitulation  was  concluded.  The-  colonists  were 
suffered  to  embark  in  a  small  vessel  scantily  supplied  with 
food  and  water.  They  had  no  experienced  navigator  on 
board:  but  after  a  voyage  of  a  fortnight,  during  which 
.  they  were  crowded  together  like  slaves  in  a  Guinea  ship, 
and  suffered  the  extremity  of  thirst  and  huxiger,  they 
reached  Bristol  in  safety§  When  such  was  the  fate  of  the 
towns,  it  was  evident  that  the  country  seats  which  the 
Protestant  landowners  had  recently  fortified  in  the  three 
southern  provinces  could  no  longer  be  defended.  Many 
families  submitted,  delivered  up  their  arms,  and  thought 
themselves  happy  in  escaping  with  life.  But  many  reso- 
lute and  high-spirited  gentlemen  and  yeomen  were  deter- 
mined to  perish  rather  than  yield.  They  packed  up  such 
Valuable  property  as  could  easily  be  carried  away,  burned 
whatever  they  could  not  remove,  and,  well  armed  and 
mounted,  set  out  for  those  spots  in  Ulster  which  were  the 
strongholds  of  their  race  and  of  their  faith.  The  flower  of 
the  Protestant  population  of  Munster  and  Connaught 
found  shelter  at  Enniskillen.    Whatever  was  bravest  and 

*  A  remarkable  thing  never  to  be  forgotten  was  that  they  that  were  in  government 
then"— at  the  end  of  1688— '^seemed  to  favour  us  and  endeavour  to  preserve  Friends." 
—History  of  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  the  People  called  Quakers  in  Ireland,  by  Wight 
and  Rutty,  Dublin,  1751.  King  indeed  (iii.  17)  reproaches  the  Quakers  as  allies  and 
tools  of  the  Papists. 

t  Wight  and  Rutty. 

t  Life  of  James,  ii.  327.  Orig.  Mem.  Macarthy  and  his  feignea  name  are  repeatedly 
mentioned  by  Dangeau. 

§  Exact  Relation  of  the  Persecutions,  Robberies  and  Losses  sustained  by  the  Protest' 
ints  of  Kilmare  in  Ireland,  1689. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


127 


most  true-hearted  in  Leinster  took  the  road  to  London- 
derry.* 

The  spirit  of  Enniskillen  and  Londonderry  rose  higher 
and  higher  to  meet  the  danger.  At  both  places  the  tidings 
of  what  had  been  done  by  the  Convention  at  Westminster 
were  received  with  transports  of  joy.  William  and  Mary 
were  proclaimed  at  Enniskillen  with  unanimous  enthu- 
siasm, and  with  such  pomp  as  the  little  town  could  furnish. f 
Lundy,  who  commanded  at  Londonderry,  could  not  ven- 
ture to  oppose  himself  to  the  general  sentiment  of  the  citi- 
zens and  of  his  own  soldiers.  He  therefore  gave  in  his  ad- 
hesion to  the  new  government,  and  signed  a  declaration  by 
which  he  bound  himself  to  stand  by  that  government,  on 
pain  of  being  considered  a  coward  and  a  traitor.  A  vessel 
from  England  .soon  brought  a  commission  from  William 
and  Mary  which  confirmed  him  in  his  officcj 

To  reduce  the  Protestants  of  Ulster  to  submission  before 
aid  could  arrive  from  England  was  now  the  chief  object  of 
Tyrconnel.  A  great  force  was  ordered  to  move  northward, 
under  the  command  of  Richard  Hamilton.  This  man  had 
violated  all  the  obligations  which  are  held  most  sacred  by 
gentlemen  and  soldiers,  had  broken  faith  with  his  most  in- 
timate friends,  had  forfeited  his  military  parole,  and  was 
now  not  ashamed  to  take  the  field  as  a  general  against  the 
government  to  which  he  was  bound  to  render  himself  up 
as  a  prisoner.  His  march  left  on  the  face  of  the  country 
traces  which  the  most  careless  eye  could  not  during  many 
years  fail  to  discern.  His  army  was  accompanied  by  a  rab- 
ble, such  as  Keating  had  well  compared  to  the  unclean 
birds  of  prey  which  swarm  wherever  the  scent  of  carrion  is 
strong.  The  general  professed  himself  anxious  to  save 
from  ruin  and  outrage  all  Protestants  who  remained 
quietly  at  their  homes;  and  he  most  readily  gave  them 
protections  under  his  hand.  But  these  protections  proved 
of  no  avail;  and  he  was  forced  to  own  that,  whatever 
power  he  might  be  able  to  exercise  over  his  soldiers,  he 
could  not  keep  order  among  the  mob  of  camp  followers. 
The  country  behind  him  was  a  wilderness;  and  soon  the 
country  before  him  became  equally  desolate.  For,  at  the 
fame  of  his  approach,  the  colonists  burned  their  furniture, 

*  A  true  Representation  to  the  King  and  People  of  England  how  matters  were  carried 
on  all  along  in  Ireland  by  the  late  King  James,  licensed  Aug.  16,  1689;  A  True  Account 
of  the  Present  State  of  Ireland  by  a  person  that  with  Great  Difficulty  left  DubUn, 
sensed  June  8,  1689. 

+  Hamilton's  Accounts  of  the  Inniskilling  Men,  i68§, 

If  Walker's  Account.  16B9. 


128 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


pulled  down  their  houses,  and  retreated  northward.  Som  ' 
of  them  attempted  to  make  a  stand  at  Dromore,  but  were 
broken  and  scattered.  Then  the  flight  became  wild  and 
tumultuous.  The  fugitives  broke  down  the  bridges  and 
burned  the  ferry-boats.  Whole  towns,  the  seats  of  the 
Protestant  population,  were  left  in  ruins  without  one  in- 
habitant. The  people  of  Omagh  destroyed  their  own  ^ 
dwellings  so  utterly  that  no  roof  was  left  to  shelter  the 
enemy  from  the  rain  and  wind.  The  people  of  Cavan 
migrated  in  one  body  to  Enniskillen.  The  day  was  wet 
and  stormy.  The  road  was  deep  in  mire.  It  w^as  a  piteous 
sight  to  see,  mingled  with  the  armed  men,  the  women  and 
children  weeping,  famished,  and  toiling  through  the  mud 
up  to  their  knees.  All  Lisburn  fled  to  Antrim;  and,  as 
the  foes  drew  nearer,  all  Lisburn  and  Antrim  together 
came  pouring  into  Londonderry.  Thirty  thousand  Prot- 
estants, of  both  sexes  and  of  every  age,  were  crowded  be- 
hind the  bulwarks  of  the  City  of  Refuge.  There,  at  length, 
on  the  verge  of  the  ocean,  hunted  to  the  last  asylum,  and 
baited  into  a  mood  in  which  men  may  be  destroyed,  but 
will  not  easily  be  subjugated,  the  imperial  race  turned  des- 
perately to  bay.* 

Meanwhile  Mountjoy  and  Rice  had  arrived  in  France. 
Mountjoy  was  instantly  put  under  arrest  and  thrown  into 
the  Bastile.  James  determined  to  comply  with  the  invi- 
tation which  Rice  had  brought,  and  applied  to  Lewis  for 
the  help  of  a  French  army.  But  Lewis,  though  he  showed, 
as  to  all  things  which  concerned  the  personal  dignity  and 
comfort  of  his  royal  guests,  a  delicacy  even  romantic,  and  a 
liberality  approaching  to  profusion,  was  unwilling  to  send 
a  large  body  of  troops  to.  Ireland.  He  saw  that  France 
would  have  to  maintain  a  long  war  on  the  Continent 
against  a  formidable  coalition:  her  expenditure  must  be 
immense;  and  great  as  were  her  resources,  he  felt  it  to  be 
important  that  nothing  should  be  wasted.  He  doubtless 
regarded  with  sincere  commiseration  and  good  will  the 
unfortunate  exiles  to  whom  he  had  given  so  princely  a 
welcome.  Yet  neither  commiseration  nor  good  will  could 
prevent  him  from  speedily  discovering  that  his  brother  of 
England  was  the  dullest  and  most  perverse  of  human  be- 
ings.   The  folly  of  James,  his  incapacity  to  read  the  char- 


♦  Mackenzie's  Narrative;  Mac  Cormick's  Further  Impartial  Account;  Story's  Impar- 
ial  History  of  the  Affairs  of  Ireland,  1691;  Apology  for  the  Protestants  of  Ireland-  Le^- 
pf  from  Dublin  of  Feb.  35,  16891  Avaux  to  Lewis,  15-25,  X689. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY, 


acters  of  men  and  the  signs  of  the  times,  his  obstinacy, 
always  most  offensively  displayed  when  wisdom  enjoined 
concession,  his  vacillation,  always  exhibited  most  pitiably  in 
emergencies  which  required  firmness,  had  made  him  an 
outcast  from  England  and  might,  if  his  counsels  were 
blindly  followed,  bring  great  calamities  on  France.  As  a 
legitimate  sovereign  expelled  by  rebels,  as  a  confessor  of 
the  true  faith  persecuted  by  heretics,  as  a  near  kinsman 
of  the  house  of  Bourbon,  who  had  seated  himself  on  the 
hearth  of  that  House,  he  was  entitled  to  hospitality,  to 
tenderness,  to  respect.  It  was  fit  that  he  should  have  a 
stately  palace  and  a  spacious  forest,  that  the  household 
troops  should  salute  him  with  the  highest  military  honors, 
that  he  should  have  at  his  command  all  the  hounds  of  the 
Grand  Huntsman  and  all  the  hawks  of  the  Grand  Fal- 
coner. But,  when  a  prince,  who,  at  the  head  of  a  great 
fleet  and  army,  had  lost  an  empire  without  striking  a 
blow,  undertook  to  furnish  plans  for  naval  and  military 
expeditions;  when  a  prince,  who  had  been  undone  by  his 
profound  ignorance  of  the  temper  of  his  own  countrymen, 
of  his  own  soldiers,  of  his  own  domestics,  of  his  own  chil- 
dren, undertook  to  answer  for  the  zeal  and  fidelity  of  the 
Irish  people,  whose  tongue  he  could  not  speak,  and  on 
whose  land  he  had  never  set  his  foot;  it  was  necessary  to 
receive  his  suggestions  with  caution.  Such  were  the  senti- 
ments of  Lewis;  and  in  these  sentiments  he  was  confirmed 
by  his  Minister  of  War,  Louvois,  who,  on  private  as  well  as 
on  public  grounds,  was  unwilling  that  James  should  be 
accompanied  by  a  large  military  force.  Louvois  hated 
Lauzun.  Lauzun  was  a  favorite  at  Saint  Germains.  He 
wore  the  garter,  a  badge  of  honor  which  has  very  seldom 
been  conferred  on  aliens  who  were  not  sovereign  princes. 
It  was  believed  indeed  at  the  French  Court  that,  in  order 
to  distinguish  him  from  the  other  knights  of  the  most 
illustrious  of  European  orders,  he  had  been  decorated  with 
that  very  George  which  Charles  the  First  had,  on  the 
scaffold,  put  into  the  hands  of  Juxon.*  Lauzun  had  been 
encouraged  to  hope  that,  if  French  forces  were  sent  to  Ire- 
land, he  should  command  them;  and  this  ambitious  hope 
Louvois  was  bent  on  disappointing.f 

An  army  was  therefore  for  the  present  refused:  but 


♦  Meraoires  de  Madime  de  la  Fayette;  Madame  de  Sevign6  to  Madame  de  Grignan. 
February  28,  1689. 
t  Burnet,  ii.  17;  Life  of  James  II,,  ii.  320,  321,  323. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


everything  else  was  granted.  The  Brest  fleet  was  ordered 
to  be  in  readiness  to  sail.  Arms  for  ten  thousand  men  and 
great  quantities  of  ammunition  were  put  on  board.  About 
four  hundred  captains,  lieutenants,  cadets,  and  gunners 
were  selected  for  the  important  service  of  organizing  and 
disciplining  the  Irish  levies.  The  chief  command  was 
held  by  a  veteran  warrior,  the  Count  of  Rosen.  Under 
him  were  Maumont,  who  held  the  rank  of  lietenant  gen- 
eral, and  a  brigadier  named  Pusignan,  Five  hundred 
thousand  crowns  in  gold,  equivalent  to  about  a  hundred 
and  twelve  thousand  pounds  sterling,  were  sent  to  Brest.* 
For  Jameses  personal  comforts  provision  was  made  with 
anxiety  resembling  that  of  a  tender  mother  equipping  her 
son  for  a  first  campaign.  The  cabin  furniture,  the  camp 
furniture,  the  tents,  the  bedding,  the  plate,  were  luxurious 
and  superb.  Nothing  which  could  be  agreeable  or  useful 
to  the  exile  was  too  costly  for  the  munificence,  or  too  trifl- 
ing for  the  attention,  of  his  gracious  and  splendid  host. 
On  the  fifteenth  of  February,  James  paid  a  farewell  visit  to 
Versailles.  He  was  conducted  round  the  buildings  and 
plantations  with  every  mark  of  respect  and  kindness.  The 
fountains  played  in  his  honor.  It  was  the  season  of  the 
Carnival:  and  never  had  the  vast  palace  and  the  sumptu- 
ous gardens  presented  a  gayer  aspect.  In  the  evening  the 
two  kings,  after  a  long  and  earnest  conference  in  private, 
made  their  appearance  before  a  splendid  circle  of  lords 
and  ladies.  *'I  hope,"  said  Lewis,  in  his  noblest  and  most 
winning  manner,  "that  we  are  about  to  part,  never  to  meet 
again  in  this  world.  That  is  the  best  wish  I  can  form  for 
you.  But,  if  any  evil  chance  should  force  you  to  return, 
be  assured  that  you  will  find  me  to  the  last  such  as  you  have 
found  me  hitherto."  On  the  seventeenth,  Lewis  paid  in 
return  a  farewell  visit  to  Saint  Germains.  At  the  moment 
of  the  parting  embrace,  he  said,  with  his  most  amiable 
smile,  "We  have  forgotten  one  thing,  a  cuirass  for  your- 
self. You  shall  have  mine."  The  cuirass  was  brought, 
and  suggested  to  the  wits  of  the  Court  ingenious  allusions 
to  the  Vulcanian  panoply  which  Achilles  lent  to  his  feebler 
friend.  James  set  out  for  Brest;  and  his  wife,  overcome 
with  sickness  and  sorrow,  shut  herself  up  with  her  child 
to  weep  and  pray.f 

*  Maumont's  Instructions. 

t  Dangeau,  Feb.  15-25,  17-27,  1689;  Madame  de  S^vign6,  Feb.  18-28,  Mar^ji;^ 
moires  do  Madame  de  la  Fayette. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


James  was  accompanied  or  speedily  followed  by  several 
of  his  own  subjects,  among  whom  the  most  distinguished 
were  his  son  Berwick,  Cartwright  Bishop  of  Chester,  Powis^ 
Dover,  and  Melfort.  Of  all  the  retinue,  none  was  so  odi- 
ous to  the  people  of  Great  Britain  as  Melfort.  He  was  an 
apostate:  he  was  believed  by  many  to  be  an  insincere 
apostate;  and  the  insolent,  arbitrary,  and  menacing  lan- 
guage of  his  state  papers  disgusted  even  the  Jacobites. 
He  was  therefore  a  favorite  with  his  master:  for  to  James? 
unpopularity,  obstinacy,  and  implacability  were  the  great- 
est recommendations  that  a  minister  could  have. 

What  Frenchman  should  attend  the  King  of  England  in 
the  character  of  ambassador  had  been  the  subject  of  grave 
deliberation  at  Versailles.  Barillon  could  not  be  passed 
over  without  a  marked  slight.  But  his  self-indulgent 
habits,  his  want  of  energy,  and,  above  all,  the  credulity 
with  which  he  had  listened  to  the  professions  of  Sunder- 
land, had  made  an  unfavorable  impression  on  the  mind  of 
Lewis.  What  was  to  be  done  in  Ireland  was  not  work  for 
a  trifler  or  a  dupe.  The  agent  of  France  in  that  kingdom 
must  be  equal  to  much  more  than  the  ordinary  functions 
of  an  envoy.  It  would  be  his  right  and  his  duty  to  offer 
advice  touching  every  part  of  the  political  and  military  ad- 
ministration of  the  country  in  which  he  would  represent 
the  most  powerful  and  the  most  beneficent  of  allies.  Bar- 
illon was  therefore  suffered  to  retire  into  privacy.  He  af- 
fected to  bear  his  disgrace  with  composure.  His  political 
career,  though  it  had  brought  great  calamities  both  on  the 
House  of  Stuart  and  on  the  House  of  Bourbon,  had  been 
by  no  means  unprofitable  to  himself.  He  was  old,  he 
said:  he  was  fat:  he  did  not  envy  younger  men  the  honor 
of  living  on  potatoes  and  whiskey  among  the  Irish  bogs: 
he  would  try  to  console  himself  with  partridges,  with 
champagne,  and  with  the  society  of  the  wittiest  men  and 
prettiest  women  of  Paris.  It  was  rumored,  however,  that 
he  was  tortured  by  painful  emotions  which  he  was  studious 
to  conceal:  his  health  and  spirits  failed;  and  he  tried  to 
find  consolation  in  religious  duties.  Some  people  were 
much  edified  by  the  piety  of  the  old  voluptuary:  but  others 
attributed  his  death,  which  took  place  not  long  after  his 
retreat  from  public  life,  to  shame  and  vexation."* 

*  Memoirs  of  La  Fare  and  St.  Simon;  Note  of  Renaudot  on  English  affairs,  1697,  in 
the  French  Archives;  Madame  de  Sevigne,  ^^^^^  ^  March  11-21,  1689;  Letter  of 
Madame  de  Coulanges  to  M.  de  Coulanges,  July  23,  1691. 


132  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

The  Count  of  Avaux,  whose  sagacity  had  detected  all 
the  plans  of  William,  and  who  had  in  vain  recommended  a 
policy  which  would  probably  have  frustrated  them,  was 
the  man  on  whom  the  choice  of  Lewis  fell.    In  abilities 
Avaux  had  no  superior  among  the  numerous  able  diplo- 
matists whom  his  country  then  possessed.    His  demeanor 
was  singularly  pleasing,  his  person  handsofne,  his  temper 
bland.    His  manners  and  conversation  were  those  of  a 
gentleman  who  had  been  bred  in  the  most  polite  and  mag- 
nificent of  all  courts,  who  had  represented  that  court  both 
in  Roman  Catholic  and  in  Protestant  countries,  and  who 
had  acquired  in  his  wanderings  the  art  of  catching  the  tone 
of  any  society  into  which  chance  might  throw  him.  He 
was  eminently  vigilant  and  adroit,  fertile  in  resources,  and 
skillful  in  discovering  the  weak  parts  of  a  character.  His 
own  character,  however,  was  not  without  its  weak  parts. 
The  consciousness  that  he  was  of  plebeian  origin  was  the 
torment  of  his  life.    He  pined  for  nobility  with  a  pining  at 
once  pitiable  and  ludicrous.    Able,  experienced,  and  ac- 
complished as  he  was,  he  sometimes,  under  the  influence 
of  this  mental  disease,  descended  to  the  level  of  Moliere's 
Jourdain,  and  entertained  malicious  observers  with  scenes 
almost  as  laughable  as  that  in  which  the  honest  draper  was 
made  a  Mamamouchi.'*    It  would  have  been  well  if  this 
had  been  the  worst.    But  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  of 
the  difference  between  right  and  wrong  Avaux  had  no 
more  notion  than  a  brute.    One  sentiment  was  to  him  in 
the  place  of  religion  and  morality,  a  superstitious  and  in- 
tolerant  devotion  to  the  crown  which  he  served.  This 
sentiment  pervades  all  his  despatches,  and  gives  a  color  to 
all  his  thoughts  and  words.    Nothing  that  tended  to  pro- 
mote the  interest  of  the  French  monarchy  seemed  to  him  a 
crime.    Indeed  he  appears  to  have  taken  it  for  granted  that 
not  only  Frenchmen,  but  all  human  beings,  owed  a  natural 
allegiance  to  the  House  of  Bourbon,  and  that  whoever  hesi- 
tated to  sacrifice  the  happiness  and  freedom  of  his  own 
native  country  to  the  glory  of  that  House  was  a  traitor. 
While   he  resided  at  the  Hague,  he  always  designated 
those  Dutchmen  who  had  sold  themselves  to  France  as  the 
well-intentioned  party.     In  the  letters  which    he  wrote 
from  Ireland,  the  same  feeling  appears  still  more  strongly. 
He  would  have  been  a  more  sagacious  politician  if  he  had 


♦  See  St.  Simon's  account  of  the  trick  by  which  Avaux  tried  to  pass  himself  off  at 
Stockholm  as  a  Knight  of  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


sympathized  more  with  those  feelings  of  moral  approba- 
tion and  disapprobation  which  prevail  among  the  vulgar. 
For  his  own  indifference  to  all  considerations  of  justice 
and  mercy  was  such  that,  in  his  schemes,  he  made  no  al- 
lowance for  the  consci*ences  and  sensibilities  of  his  neigh- 
bors. More  than  once  he  deliberately  recommended 
wickedness  so  horrible  that  wicked  men  recoiled  from  it 
with  indignation.  But  they  could  not  succeed  even  in 
making  their  scruples  intelligible  to  him.  To  every  re- 
monstrance he  listened  with  a  cynical  sneer,  wondering 
himself  whether  those  who  lectured  him  were  such  fools  as 
they  professed  to  be,  or  were  only  shamming. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  Lewis  selected  to  be  the  com- 
panion and  monitor  of  James.  Avaux  was  charged  to 
open,  if  possible,  a  communication  with  the  malcontents 
in  the  English  Parliament:  and  he  was  authorized  to  ex- 
pend, if  necessary,  a  hundred  thousand  crowns  among 
them. 

James  arrived  at  Brest  on  the  fifth  of  March,  embarked 
there  on  board  of  a  man-of-war  called  the  Saint  Michael, 
and  sailed  within  forty-eight  hours.  He  had  ample  time, 
however,  before  his  departure,  to  exhibit  some  of  the  faults 
by  which  he  had  lost  England  and  Scotland,  and  by  which 
he  was  about  to  lose  Ireland.  Avaux  wrote  from  the  har- 
bor of  Brest  that  it  would  not  be  easy  to  conduct  any  im- 
portant business  in  concert  with  the  King  of  England. 
His  Majesty  could  not  keep  any  secret  from  anybody. 
The  very  foremast  men  of  the  Saint  Michael  had  already 
heard  him  say  things  which  ought  to  have  been  reserved 
for  the  ears  of  his  confidential  advisers."^ 

The  voyage  was  safely  and  quietly  performed;  and,  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  twelfth  of  March,  James  landed  in  the 
harbor  of  Kinsale.  By  the  Roman  Catholic  population  he 
was  received  with  shouts  of  unfeigned  transport.  The 
few  Protestants  who  remained  in  that  part  of  the  country 
joined  in  greeting  him,  and  perhaps  not  insincerely.  For, 
though  an  enemy  of  their  religion,  he  was  not  an  enemy 
of  their  nation;  and  they  might  reasonably  hope  that  the 
worst  king  would  show  somewhat  more  respect  for  law 
and  property  than  had  been  shown  by  the  Merry  Boys  and 
Rapparees.    The  Vicar  of  Kinsale  was  among  those  who 


*  This  letter,  written  to  Lewis  from  the  harbor  of  Brest,  is  in  the  Archives  of  th« 
French  Foreign  (7^^?5f*  but  is  wanting  in  the  very  rare  volume  printed  in  PQwnin|f 
Street. 


134  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

went  to  pay  their  duty:  he  was  presented  by  the  Bishops 
of  Chester,  and  was  not  ungraciously  received.*  ' 

James  learned  that  his  cause  was  prospering.  In  t^ie 
three  southern  provinces  of  Ireland  the  Protestants  were 
disarmed,  and  were  so  effectually  bowed  down  by  terror 
that  he  had  nothing  to  apprehend  from  them.  In  the 
North  there  was  som.e  show  of  resistance:  but  Hamilton 
was  marching  against  the  malcontents;  and  there  was 
little  doubt  that  they  would  easily  be  crushed.  A  day  was 
spent  at  Kinsale  in  putting  the  arms  and  ammunition  out 
of  reach  of  danger.  Horses  sufficient  to  carry  a  few  trav- 
ellers were  with  some  difficulty  procured;  and,  on  the  four- 
teenth of  March,  James  proceeded  to  Cork.f 

We  should  greatly  err  if  we  imagined  that  the  road  by 
which  he  entered  that  city  bore  any  resemblance  to  the 
stately  approach  which  strikes  the  traveller  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  with  admiration.  At  present  Cork,  though 
deformed  by  many  miserable  relics  of  a  former  age,  holds 
no  mean  place  among  the  ports  of  the  empire.  The  ship- 
ping is  more  than  half  what  the  shipping  of  London  was 
at  the  time  of  the  Revolution.  The  customs  exceed  the 
whole  revenue  which  the  whole  kingdom  of  Ireland,  in  the 
most  peaceful  and  prosperous  times,  yielded  to  the  Stu- 
arts. The  town  is  adorned  by  broad  and  well  built  streets, 
by  fair  gardens,  by  a  Corinthian  portico  which  would  do 
honor  to  Palladio,  and  by  a  Gothic  College  worthy  to 
stand  in  the  High  Street  of  Oxford,  In  1689,  the  city  ex- 
tended over  about  one-tenth  part  of  the  space  which  it 
now  covers,  and  was  intersected  by  muddy  streams,  which 
have  long  been  concealed  by  arches  and  buildings.  A 
desolate  marsh,  in  which  the  sportsman  who  pursued  the 
waterfowl  sank  deep  in  water  and  mire  at  every  step,  cov- 
ered the  area  now  occupied  by  stately  buildings,  the  pal- 
aces of  great  commercial  societies.  There  was  only  a  sin- 
gle street  in  which  two-wheeled  carriages  could  pass  each 
other.  From  this  street  diverged  to  right  and  left  alleys 
squalid  and  noisome  beyond  the  belief  of  those  who  have 
formed  their  notions  of  misery  from  the  most  miserable 
parts  of  Saint  Giles's  and  Whitechapel.  One  of  these 
alleys,  called,  and,  by  comparison,  justly  called.  Broad 
Lane,  is  about  ten  feet  wide     From  such  places,  now  seats 

*  A  full  and  true  account  of  the  Landing  and  Reception  of  the  late  King  James  at 
Kinsale,  in  a  letter  from  Bristol,  licensed  April  4,  1689;  Leslie's  Answer  to  King; 
Ireland's  Lamentation;  Avaux,  March  13-23. 

t  Avaux,  ?>Iarch  13-23,  1689,*  Life  of  James,  ii,  327,  Orig.  Mem. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


^35 


of  A^nger  and  pestilence,  abandoned  to  the  most  wretched 
cf  mankind,  the  citizens  poured  forth  to  welcome  James. 
He  was  received  with  military  honors  by  Macarthy,  who 
held  the  chief  command  in  Munster. 

It  was  impossible  for  the  King  to  proceed  immediately 
to  Dublin;  for  the  southern  counties  had  been  so  com^ 
pletely  laid  waste  by  the  banditti  whom  the  priests  had 
(Jailed  to  arms  that  the  means  of  locomotion  were  not  easily 
to  be  procured.  Horses  had  become  rarities:  in  a  large 
district  there  were  only  two  carts;  and  those  Avaux  pro- 
nounced good  for  nothing.  Some  days  elapsed  before  the 
money  which  had  been  brought  from  France,  though  no  very 
formidable  mass,  could  be  dragged  over  the  few  miles 
which  separated  Cork  from  Kinsale.* 

While  the  King  and  his  Council  were  employed  in  trying 
to  procure  carriages  and  beasts,  Tyrconnel  arrived  from 
Dublin.  He  held  encouraging  language.  The  opposition 
of  Enniskillen  he  seems  to  have  thought  deserving  of  little 
consideration.  Londonderry,  he  said,  was  the  only  im- 
portant post  held  by  the  Protestants;  and  even  London- 
derry would  not,  in  his  judgment,  hold  out  many  days. 

At  length  James  was  able  to  leave  Cork  for  the  capital. 
Oil  the  road,  the  shrewd  and  observant  Avaux  made  many 
remarks.  The  first  part  of  the  journey  was  through  wild 
highlands,  where  it  was  not  strange  that  there  should  be 
few  traces  of  art  and  industry.  But,  from  Kilkenny  to  the 
gates  of  Dublin  the  path  of  the  travellers  lay  over  gently 
undulating  ground,  rich  with  natural  verdure.  That  fer- 
tile district  should  have  been  covered  with  flocks  and  herds, 
orchards  and  cornfields;  but  it  was  an  untilled  and  un- 
peopled desert.  Even  in  the  towns  the  artisans  were  very 
few.  Manufactured  articles  were  hardly  to  be  found,  and 
if  found  could  be  procured  only  at  immense  prices.  The 
envoy  at  first  attributed  the  desolation  which  he  saw  on 
every  side  to  the  tyranny  of  the  English  colonists.  In  a 
very  short  time  he  was  forced  to  change  his  opinion. f 

James  received  on  his  progress  numerous  marks  of  the 
good-will  of  the  peasantry;  but  marks  such  as,  to  men 
bred  in  the  courts  of  France  and  England,  haid  an  uncouth 
and  ominous  appearance.  Though  very  few  laborers  were 
see*  at  work  in  the  fields,  the  road  was  lined  by  Rapparees 


*  Avaux,  March  15-25,  1689. 

 rr-7-^1689 

April  ^ 


136 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


armed  with  skeans,  stakes,  and  half  pikes,  who  crowded  u/ 
look  upon  the  deliverer  of  their  race.  The  highway  alon/ 
which  he  travelled  presented  the  aspect  of  a  street  m 
which  a  fair  is  held.  Pipers  came  forth  to  play  before  him 
in  a  style  which  was  not  exactly  that  of  the  French  opera; 
and  the  villagers  danced  wildly  to  the  music.  Long  frieze 
mantles,  resembling  those  which  Spenser  had,  a  century 
before,  described  as  meet  beds  for  rebels  and  apt  cloaks 
for  thieves,  were  spread  along  the  path  which  the  caval- 
cade was  to  tread;  and  garlands  in  which  cabbage  stalks 
supplied  the  place  of  laurels,  were  offered  to  the  royal 
hand.  The  women  insisted  on  kissing  His  Majesty;  but 
it  should  seem  that  they  bore  little  resemblance  to  their 
posterity;  for  this  compliment  was  so  distasteful  to  him 
that  lie  ordered  his  retinue  to  keep  them  at  a  distance.* 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  March  he  entered  Dublin.  That 
<!ity  was  then,  in  extent  and  population,  the  second  in  the 
British  isles.  It  contained  between  six  and  seven  thousand 
houses,  and  probably  above  thirty  thousand  inhabitants.! 
In  wealth  and  beauty,  however,  Dublin  was  inferior  to 
many  English  towns.  Of  the  graceful  and  stately  public 
buildings  which  now  adorn  both  sides  of  the  Liffey 
scarcely  one  had  been  even  projected.  The  College,  a  very 
different  edifice  from  that  which  now  stands  on  the  same 
site,  lay  quite  out  of  the  city. J  The  ground  which  is  at 
present  occupied  by  Leinster  House  and  Charlemont 
House,  by  Sackville  Street  and  Merrion  Square,  was  open 
meadow.  Most  of  the  dwellings  were  built  of  timber,  and 
have  long  given  place  to  more  substantial  edifices.  The 
Castle  had  in  1686  been  almost  uninhabitable.  Clarendon 
had  complained  that  he  knew  of  no  gentleman  in  Pall  Mall 
who  was  not  more  conveniently  and  handsomely  lodged 
than  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland.  No  public  ceremony 
could  be  performed  in  a  becoming  manner  under  the  Vice- 
regal roof.  Nay,  in  spite  of  constant  glazing  and  tiling, 
the  rain  perpetually  drenched  the  apartments. §  Tyrcon- 
nel,  since  he  became  Lord  Deputy,  had  erected  a  new  build- 
ing somewhat  more  commodious.    To  this  building  the 

*  A  full  and  true  Account  of  the  Landing  and  Reception  of  the  late  King  James; 
Ireland's  Lamentation;  Light  to  the  Blind. 

t  See  the  calculations  of  Petty,  King  and  Davenant.  If  the  average  number  of  in- 
habitants to  a  house  was  the  same  in  Dublin  as  in  London,  the  population  of  Dublin 
would  have  been  about  thirty-four  thousand. 

t  John  Dunton  speaks  of  College  Green  near  Dublin.  I  have  seen  letters  of  that  age 
directed  to  the  College,  by  Dublin.  There  are  some  interesting  old  maps  of  Dublin  in 
the  British  Museum, 

ClArendon  to  Rochester,  F«b.  8,  1685-6,  April  20,  Aug.  la,  Nov.  30, 1686 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


til 


King  was  conducted  in  state  through  the  southern  part  of 
the  city.  Every  exertion  had  been  made  to  give  an  air  of 
festivity  and  splendor  to  the  district  which  he  was  to 
traverse.  The  streets,  which  were  generally  deep  in  mud, 
were  strewn  with  gravel.  Boughs  and  flowers  were  scat- 
tered over  the  path.  Tapestry  and  arras  hung  from  the 
windows  of  those  who  could  afford  to  exhibit  such  finery. 
The  poor  supplied  the  place  of  rich  stuffs  with  blankets 
and  coverlids.  In  one  place  was  stationed  a  troop  of  friars 
with  a  cross;  in  another  a  company  of  forty  girls  dressed 
in  white,  and  carrying  nosegays.  Pipers  and  harpers 
played  'The  King  shall  enjoy  his  own  again."  The  Lord 
Deputy  carried  the  sword  of  state  before  his  master.  The 
judges,  the  heralds,  the  Lord  Mayor  and  aldermen,  ap- 
peared in  all  the  pomp  of  office.  Soldiers  were  drawn  up 
on  the  right  and  left  to  keep  the  passages  clear.  A  pro- 
cession of  twenty  coaches  belonging  to  public  functionaries 
was  mustered.  Before  the  Castle  gate,  the  King  was  met 
by  the  host  under  a  canopy  borne  by  four  bishops  of  his 
church.  At  the  sight  he  fell  on  his  knees,  and  passed 
some  time  in  devotion.  He  then  rose  and  was  conducted 
to  the  chapel  of  his  palace,  once, —  such  are  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  human  things, — the  riding-house  of  Henry  Crom- 
well. A  Te  Deum  was  performed  in  honor  of  his  Majei^- 
ty's  arrival.  The  next  morning  he  held  a  Privy  Council, 
discharged  Chief  Justice  Keating  from  any  further  atten- 
dance at  the  Board,  ordered  Avaux  and  Bishop  Cartwright 
to  be  sworn  in,  and  issued  a  proclamation  convoking  a 
Parliament  to  meet  at  Dublin  on  the  seventh  of  May.* 

When  the  news  that  James  had  arrived  in  Ireland 
reached  London,  the  sorrow  and  alarm  were  general,  and 
were  mingled  with  serious  discontent.  The  multitude,  not 
making  sufficient  allowance  for  the  difficulties  by  which 
William  was  encompassed  on  every  side,  loudly  blamed 
his  neglect.  To  all  the  invectives  of  the  ignorant  and 
malicious  he  opposed,  as  was  his  wont,  nothing  but  im- 
mutable gravity  and  the  silence  of  profound  disdain.  But 
few  minds  had  received  from  nature  a  temper  so  firm  as 
his;  and  still  fewer  had  undergone  so  long  and  so  rigorous 
a  discipline.  The  reproaches  which  had  no  power  to 
shake  his  fortitude,  tried  from  childhood  upwards  by  both 


*  Life  of  James  II.,  ii.  2^^^  Full  and  true  Account  of  the  Landing  and  Reception,  &c.; 
Ireland's  Lamentation, 


138  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

extremes  of  fortune,  inflicted  a  deadly  wound  on  a  lefes 
resolute  heart. 

When  all  the  coffee-houses  were  unanimously  resolving 
that  a  fleet  and  army  ought  to  have  been  long  before  sent 
to  Dublin,  and  wondering  how  so  renowned  a  politician  as 
His  Majesty  could  have  been  duped  by  Hamilton  and 
Tyrconnel,  a  gentleman  went  down  to  the  Temple  Stairs, 
called  a  boat,  and  desired  to  be  pulled  to  Greenwich.  He 
took  the  cover  of  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  scratched  a  few 
lines  with  a  pencil,  and  laid  the  paper  on  the  seat  with 
some  silver  for  his  fare.  As  the  boat  passed  under  the 
dark  central  arch  of  London  Bridge,  he  sprang  into  the 
water  and  disappeared.  It  was  found  that  he  had  written 
these  words:  ^^My  folly  in  undertaking  what  I  could  not 
execute  hath  done  the  King  great  prejudice  which  cannot 
be  stopped — No  easier  way  for  me  than  this — May  his  un- 
dertaking prosper — May  he  have  a  blessing."  There  was 
no  signature:  but  the  body  was  soon  found,  and  proved  to 
be  that  of  John  Temple.  He  was  young  and  highly  ac- 
complished: he  was  heir  to  an  honorable  name:  he  was 
united  to  an  amiable  woman:  he  was  possessed  of  an 
ample  fortune;  and  he  had  in  prospect  the  greatest  honors 
of  the  state.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  public  had  been 
at  all  aware  to  what  an  extent  he  was  answerable  for  the  - 
policy  which  had  brought  so  much  obloquy  on  the  govern- 
ment. The  King,  stern  as  he  was,  had  for  too  great  a  heart 
to  treat  an  error  as  a  crime.  He  had  just  appointed  the 
unfortunate  young  man  Secretary  at  War;  and  the  com- 
mission was  actually  preparing.  It  is  not  improbable  that 
the  cold  magnanimity  of  the  master  was  the  very  thing 
which  made  the  remorse  of  the  servant  insupportable.* 

But  great  as  were  the  vexations  which  William  had  to 
undergo,  those  by  which  the  temper  of  his  father-in-law 
was  at  this  time  tried  were  greater  still.  No  court  in 
Europe  was  distracted  by  more  quarrels  and  intrigues  than 
were  to  be  found  within  the  walls  of  Dublin  Castle.  The 
numerous  petty  cabals  which  sprang  from  the  cupidity, 
the  jealousy,  and  the  malevolence  of  individuals  scarcely 
deserved  mention.    But  there  was  one  cause  of  discord 

♦  Clarendon'c  Diary;  Reresby's  Memoirs;  Luttrell's  Diary.  I  have  followed  Luttrell's 
version  of  Temp/e's  last  words.  It  agrees  in  substance  with  Clarendon's,  but  has  more 
of  the  abruptnf/uS  natural  on  such  an  occasion.  If  anything  could  make  so  tragical  an 
event  ridiculor,>5,  it  would  be  the  lamentation  of  the  author  of  the  Londeriad.* 

"  The  wretched  youth  against  his  friend  exclaims, 
And  in  despair  drowns  himself  in  the  Thames.'* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


which  has  been  too  little  noticed,  and  which  is  the  key  to 
much  that  has  been  thought  mysterious  in  the  history  of 
those  times. 

Between  English  Jacobitism  and  Irish  Jacobitism  there 
was  nothing  in  common.  The  English  Jacobite  was  ani- 
mated by  a  strong  enthusiasm  for  the  family  of  Stuart; 
and  in  his  zeal  for  the  interests  of  that  family  he  too  often 
forgot  the  interests  of  the  state.  Victory,  peace,  prosperity, 
seemed  evils  to  the  stanch  nonjurer  of  our  island,  if  they 
tended  to  make  usurpation  popular  and  permanent.  De- 
feat, bankruptcy,  famine,  invasion,  were,  in  his  view,  pub- 
lic blessings,  if  they  increased  the  chance  of  a  restoration. 
He  would  rather  have  seen  his  country  the  last  of  the  na- 
tions under  James  the  Second  or  James  the  Third,  than 
the  mistress  of  the  sea,  the  umpire  between  contending 
potentates,  the  seat  of  arts,  the  hive  of  industry,  under  a 
Prince  of  the  House  of  Nassau  or  of  Brunswick. 

The  sentiments  of  the  Irish  Jacobite  were  very  different, 
and,  it  must  in  candor  be  acknowledged,  were  of  a  noble 
character.  The  fallen  dynasty  was  nothing  to  him.  He 
had  not,  like  a  Cheshire  or  Shropshire  cavalier,  been 
taught  from  his  cradle  to  consider  loyalty  to  that  dynasty 
as  the  first  duty  of  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman.  All  his 
family  traditions,  all  the  lessons  taught  him  by  his  foster 
mother  and  by  his  priests,  had  been  of  a  very  different 
tendency.  He  had  been  brought  up  to  regard  the  foreign 
sovereigns  of  his  native  land  with  the  feeling  with  which 
the  Jew  regarded  Caesar,  with  which  the  Scot  regarded 
Edward  the  First,  with  which  the  Castilian  regarded 
Joseph  Bonaparte,  and  with  which  the  Pole  regards  the 
Autocrat  of  the  Russias.  It  was  the  boast  of  the  high- 
born Milesian  that,  from  the  twelfth  century  to  the  seven- 
teenth, every  generation  of  his  family  had  been  in  arms 
against  the  English  crown.  His  remote  ancestors  had 
contended  with  Fitzstephen  and  De  Burgh.  His  great- 
grandfather had  cloven  down  the  soldiers  of  Elizabeth  in 
the  battle  of  the  Blackwater.  His  grandfather  had  con- 
v^pired  with  O'Donnel  against  James  the  First.  His  father 
liad  fought  under  Sir  Phelim  O'Neil  against  Charles  the 
First.  The  confiscation  of  the  family  estate  had  been  rat- 
ified by  an  Act  of  Charles  the  Second.  No  Puritan,  who 
had  been  cited  before  the  High  Commission  by  Laud,  who 
had  charged  by  the  side  of  Cromwell  at  Naseby,  who  had 
t)een  prosecuted  under  the  Conventicle  Act,  and  who  had 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


been  in  hiding  on  account  of  the  Rye  House  Plot,  bore  less 
affection  to  the  House  of  Stuart  than  the  O'Haras  and 
Macmahons,  on  whose  support  the  fortunes  of  that  House 
now  seemed  to  depend. 

The  fixed  purpose  of  these  men  was  to  break  the  foreign 
yoke,  to  exterminate  the  Saxon  colony,  to  sweep  away^the 
Protestant  Church,  and  to  restore  the*  soil  to  its  ancient 
proprietors.  To  obtain  these  ends  they  would  without  the 
smallest  scruple  have  risen  up  against  James;  and  to  ob- 
tain these  ends  they  rose  up  for  him".  The  Irish  Jacobites, 
therefore,  were  not  at  all  desirous  that  he  should  again 
reign  at  Whitehall:  for  they  were  perfectly  aware  that  a 
sovereign  of  Ireland,  who  was  also  sovereign  of  England, 
would  not,  and,  even  if  he  would,  could  not,  long  admin- 
ister the  government  of  the  smaller  and  poorer  kingdom 
in  direct  opposition  to  the  feeling  of  the  larger  and  richer. 
Their  real  wish  was  that  the  crowns  might  be  completely 
separated,  and  that  their  island  might,  whether  with  James 
or  without  James  they  cared  little,  form  a  distinct  state 
under  the  powerful  protection  of  France, 

While  one  party  in  the  Council  at  Dublin  regarded 
James  merely  as  a  tool  to  be  employed  for  achieving  the 
deliverance  of  Ireland,  another  party  regarded  Ireland 
merely  as  a  tool  to  be  employed  for  effecting  the  restora- 
tion of  James.  To  the  English  and  Scotch  lords  and  gen- 
tlemen who  had  accompanied  him  from  Brest,  the  island 
vn  which  they  now  sojourned  was  merely  a  stepping-stone 
by  which  they  were  to  reach  Great  Britain.  They  were 
still  as  much  exiles  as  when  they  were  at  Saint  Germains; 
and  indeed  they  thought  Saint  Germains  a  far  more  pleas- 
ant place  of  exile  than  Dublin  Castle.  They  had  no  sym- 
pathy with  the  native  population  of  the  remote  and  half 
barbarous  region  to  which  a  strange  chance  had  led  them. 
Nay,  they  were  bound  by  common  extraction  and  by  com- 
mon language  to  that  colony  which  it  was  the  chief  object 
of  the  native  population  to  root  out.  They  had  indeed,  j 
Jlke  the  great  body  of  their  countrymen,  always  regarded 
the  aboriginal  Irish  with  very  unjust  contempt,  as  inferior 
to  other  European  nations,  not  only  in  acquired  knowl- 
edge, but  in  natural  intelligence  and  courage;  as  born 
Gibeonites,  who  had  been  liberally  treated  in  being  per- 
mitted to  hew  wood  and  to  draw  water  for  a  wiser  and 
mightier  people.  These  politicians  also  thought, — and 
here  they  were  undoubtedly  in  the  right, — that,  if  their 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


141 


master's  object  was  to  recover  the  throne  of  England,  it 
would  be  madness  in  him  to  give  himself  up  to  the  guid- 
ance of  the  O's  and  the  Macs  who  regarded  England  with 
mortal  enmity.  A  law  declaring  the  crown  of  Ireland  inde- 
pendent, a  law  transferring  mitres,  glebes,  and  tithes  from 
the  Protestant  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  a  law 
transferring  ten  millions  of  acres  from  Saxons  to  Celts, 
would  doubtless  be  loudly  applauded  in  Clare  and  Tip- 
perary.  But  what  would  be  the  effect  of  such  laws  at 
Westminster?  What  at  Oxford?  It  would  be  poor  policy 
to  alienate  such  men  as  Clarendon  and  Beaufort,  Ken 
and  Sherlock,  in  order  to  obtain  the  applause  of  the  Rap- 
parees  of  the  Bog  of  Allen.* 

Thus  the  English  and  Irish  factions  in  the  Council  at 
Dublin  were  engaged  in  a  dispute  which  admitted  of  no 
compromise.  Avaux  meanwhile  looked  on  that  dispute 
from  a  point  of  view  entirely  his  own.  His  object  was 
neither  the  emancipation  of  Ireland  nor  the  restoration  of 
James,  but  the  greatness  of  the  French  monarchy.  In 
what  way  that  object  might  be  best  attained  was  a  very 
complicated  problem.  Undoubtedly  a  French  statesman 
could  not  but  wish  for  a  counter-revolution  in  England. 
The  effect  of  such  a  counter-revolution  would  be  that  the 
power  which  was  the  most  formidable  enemy  of  France 
would  become  her  firmest  ally,  that  William  would  sink 
into  insignificance,  and  that  the  European  coalition  of 
which  he  was  the  chief  would  be  dissolved.  But  what 
chance  was  there  of  such  a,  counter-revolution?  The  Eng- 
lish exiles  indeed,  after  the  fashion  of  exiles,  confidently 
anticipated  a  speedy  return  to  their  country.  James  him- 
self loudly  boasted  that  his  subjects  on  the  other  side  of 
the  water,  though  they  had  been  misled  for  a  moment  by 
the  specious  names  of  religion,  liberty,  and  property,  were 
warmly  attached  to  him,  and  would  rally  round  him  as 
soon  as  he  appeared  among  them.  But  the  wary  envoy 
tried  in  vain  to  discover  any  foundation  for  these  hopes. 
He  could  not  find  that  they  were  warranted  by  any  intelli- 
gence which  had  arrived  from  any  part  of  Great  Britain; 
and  he  was  inclined  to  consider  them  as  the  mere  day- 
dreams of  a  feeble  mind.  He  thought  it  unlikely  that  the 
usurper,  whose  ability  and  resolution  he  had,  during  an 
unintermitted  conflict  of  ten  years,  learned  to  appreciate, 

♦  Much  light  is  thrown  on  the  dispute    between  the  English   and    Irish  parties  in 

iames's  council,  by  a  remarkable  letter  of  Bishop  Maloney  to  Bishop  Tyrrel,  which  wiU 
e  found  in  the  Appendix  to  King's  State  of  the  Protestants. 


142 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


would  easily  part  with  the  great  prize  which  had  been  won 
by  such  strenuous  exertions  and  profound  combinations. 
It  was  therefore  necessary  to  consider  what  arrangements 
would  be  most  beneficial  to  France,  on  the  supposition 
that  it  proved  impossible  to  dislodge  William  from  Eng- 
land. And  it  was  evident  tTiat,  if  William  could  not  be 
dislodged  from  England,  the  arrangement  most  beneficial 
to  France  would  be  that  which  had  been  contemplated 
eighteen  months  before  when  James  had  no  prospect  of 
a  male  heir.  Ireland  must  be  severed  from  the  English 
crown,  purged  of  the  English  colonists,  reunited  to  the 
Church  of  Rome,  placed  under  the  protection  of  the  House 
of  Bourbon,  and  made,  in  everything  but  name,  a  French 
province.  In  war,  her  resources  would  be  absolutely  at  the 
command  of  her  Lord  Paramount.  She  would  furnish  his 
army  with  recruits.  She  would  furnish  his  navy  with  fine 
harbors  commanding  all  the  great  western  outlets  of  the 
English  trade.  The  strong  national  and  religious  antipa- 
thy with  which  her  aboriginal  population  regarded  the  in- 
habitants of  the  neighboring  island  would  be  a  sufficient 
guarantee  for  their  fidelity  to  that  government  which  could 
alone  protect  her  against  the  Saxon. 

On  the  whole,  therefore,  it  appeared  to  Avaux  that,  of 
the  two  parties  into  which  the  Council  at  Dublin  was  di- 
vided, the  Irish  party  was  that  which  it  was  at  present  for 
the  interest  of  France  to  support.  He  accordingly  con- 
nected himself  closely  with  the  chiefs  of  that  party,  ob- 
tained'from  them  the  fullest  avowals  of  all  that  they  de- 
signed, and  was  soon  able  to  report  to  his  government 
that  neither  the  gentry  nor  the  common  people  were  at  all 
unwilling  to  become  French.* 

The  views  of  Louvois,  incomparably  the  greatest  states- 
man that  France  had  produced  since  Richelieu,  seem  to 
have  entirely  agreed  with  those  of  Avaux.  The  best  thing, 
Louvois  wrote,  that  King  James  could  do  would  be  to  for- 
get that  he  had  reigned  in  great  Britain,  and  to  think  only 
of  putting  Ireland  into  a  good  condition,  and  of  establish- 
ing himself  firmly  there.  Whether  this  were  the  true  in- 
terest of  the  House  of  Stuart  may  be  doubted.  But  it  was 
undoubtedly  the  true  interest  of  the  House  of  Bourbon. f 

*  Avaux,  ^2p^rV/'  ^^^^^  13-23-    But  it  is  less  from  any  single  letter,  than  from 

the  whole  tendency  and  spirit  of  the  correspondenceof  Avaux,  that  I  have  formed  my  no- 
tion of  his  objects. 

t  "II  faut  done,  oubliant  qu'il  a  este  Roy  d'Angleterre  et  d'Escosse,  nc  penscr  qu'i  cc 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


About  the  Scotch  and  English  exiles,  and  especially 
about  Melfort,  Avaux  constantly  expressed  himself  with 
an  asperity  hardly  to  have  been  expected  from  a  man  of  so 
much  sense  and  so  much  knowledge  of  the  world.  Melfort 
was  in  a  singularly  unfortunate  position.  He  was  a  rene- 
gade: he  was  a  mortal  enemy  of  the  liberties  of  his  coun- 
try: he  was  of  a  bad  and  tyrannical  nature;  and  yet  he 
was,  in  some  sense,  a  patriot.  The  consequence  was  that 
he  was  more  universally  detested  than  any  man  of  his 
time.  For,  while  his  apostasy  and  his  arbitrary  maxims 
of  government  made  him  the  abhorrence  of  England  and 
Scotland,  his  anxiety  for  the  dignity  and  integrity  of  the 
empire  made  him  the  abhorrence  of  the  Irish  and  of  the 
French. 

The  first  question  to  be  decided  was  whether  James 
should  remain  at  Dublin,  or  should  put  himself  at  the 
head  of  his  army  in  Ulster.  On  this  question  the  Irish 
and  British  factions  joined  battle.  Reasons  of  no  great 
weight  were  adduced  on  both  sides;  for  neither  party  ven- 
tured to  speak  out.  The  point  really  in  issue  was  whether 
the  King  should  be  in  Irish  or  in  British  hands.  If  he  re- 
mained at  Dublin,  it  would  be  scarcely  possible  for  him  to 
withhold  his  assent  from  any  bill  presented  to  him  by  the 
Parliament  which  he  had  summoned  to  meet  there.  He 
would  be  forced  to  plunder,  perhaps  to  attaint,  innocent 
Protestant  gentlemen  and  clergymen  by  hundreds;  and  he 
would  thus  do  irreparable  mischief  to  his  cause  on  the 
other  side  of  Saint  George's  Channel.  If  he  repaired  to 
Ulster,  he  would  be  within  a  few  hours'  sail  of  Great 
Britain.  As  soon  as  Londonderry  had  fallen,  and  it  was 
universally  supposed  that  the  fall  of  Londonderry  could 
not  be  long  delayed,  he  might  cross  the  sea  with  part  of 
his  forces,  and  land  in  Scotland,  w^here  his  friends  were 
supposed  to  be  numerous.  When  he  was  once  on  British 
ground,  and  in  the  midst  of  British  adherents,  it  would  no 
longer  be  in  the  power  of  the  Irish  to  extort  his  consent  to 
their  schemes  of  spoliation  and  revenge. 

The  discussions  in  the  Council  were  long  and  warm. 
Tyrconnel,  who  had  just  been  created  a  Duke,  advised  his 
master  to  stay  at  Dublin.  Melfort  exhorted  His  Majesty  to 
set  out  for  Ulster.  Avaux  exerted  all  his  influence  in  sup- 
port of  Tyrconnel;  but  James,  whose  personal  inclinations 


qui  peut  bonifier  I'Irlande,  et  luy  faciliter  les  moyens  d'y  subsister,"— Louvois  to  Avaux, 
June  3-1J,  1689. 


144 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


were  naturally  on  the  British  side  of  the  question,  deter* 
mined  to  follow  the  advice  of  Melfort.*  Avaux  was  deeply 
mortified.  In  his  official  letters  he  expressed  with  great 
acrimony  his  contempt  for  the  King's  character  and  un- 
derstanding. On  Tyrconnel,  who  had  said  that  he  de- 
spaired of  the  fortunes  of  James,  and  that  the  real  ques- 
tion was  between  the  King  of  France  and  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  the  Ambassador  pronounced  what  was  meant  to 
be  a  warm  eulogy,  but  may  perhaps  be  more  properly 
called  an  invective.  '^If  he  were  a  born  Frenchman,  he 
could  not  be  more  zealous  for  the  interests  of  France. "f 
The  conduct  of  Melfort,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the  sub- 
ject of  an  invective  which  much  resembles  eulogy:  ^*He 
is  neither  a  good  Irishman  nor  a  good  Frenchman.  All 
his  affections  are  set  on  his  own  country.^J 

Since  the  King  was  determined  to  go  northward,  Avaux 
did  not  choose  to  be  left  behind.  The  royal  party  set  out, 
leaving  Tyrconnel  in  charge  at  Dublin,  and  arrived  at 
Charlemont  on  the  thirteenth  of  April.  The  journey  was 
a  strange  one.  The  country  all  along  the  road  had  been 
completely  deserted  by  the  industrious  population,  and 
laid  waste  by  bands  of  robbers.  This,"  said  one  of  the 
French  officers,  is  like  travelling  through  the  deserts  of 
Arabia.  "§  Whatever  effects  the  colonists  had  been  able  to 
remove  were  at  Londonderry  or  Enniskillen.  The  rest  had 
been  stolen  or  destroyed.  Avaux  informed  his  court  that 
he  had  not  been  able  to  get  one  truss  of  hay  for  his  horses 
without  sending  five  or  six  miles.  No  laborer  dared  bring 
anything  for  sale  lest  some  marauder  should  lay  hands  on 
it  by  the  way.  The  ambassador  was  put  one  night  into  a 
miserable  tap-room  full  of  soldiers  smoking,  another  night 
into  a  dismantled  house  without  windows  or  shutters  to 
keep  out  the  rain.  At  Charlemont,  a  bag  of  oatmeal  was, 
with  great  difficulty,  and  as  a  matter  of  favor,  procured 
for  the  French  legation.  There  was  no  wheaten  bread  ex- 
cept at  the  table  of  the  King,  who  had  brought  a  little 
flour  from  Dublin,  and  to  whom  Avaux  had  lent  a  servant 
who  knew  how  to  bake.  Those  who  were  honored  with 
an  invitation  to  the  royal  table  had  their  bread  and  wine 
measured  out  to  them.    Everybody  else,  however  high  in 


♦  See  the  despatches  written  by  Avaux  during  April  1689;  Light  to  the  Blind. 

t  Avaux,  April  6-16,  1689.  .  X  Avaux,  May  8-18,  1689. 

e  Pusignan  to  Avaux»  ^^pruT' 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


rank,  ate  horsecorn,  and  drank  water  or  detestable  beer, 
made  with  oats  instead  of  barley,  and  flavored  with  some 
nameless  herb  as  a  substitute  for  hops.*  Yet  report  said 
that  the  country  between  Charlemont  and  Strabane  was 
even  more  desolate  than  the  country  between  Dublin  and 
Charlemont.  It  was  impossible  to  carry  a  large  stock  of 
provisions.  The  roads  were  so  bad,  and  the  horses  so 
weak,  that  the  baggage  wagons  had  all  been  left  far  be- 
hind. The  chief  officers  of  the  army  were  consequently  in 
want  of  necessaries;  and  the  ill-humor  which  was  the 
natural  effect  of  these  privations  was  increased  by  the  in- 
sensibility of  James,  who  seemed  not  to  be  aware  that 
everybody  about  him  was  not  perfectly  comfortable. f 

On  the  fourteenth  of  April  the  King  and  his  train  pro- 
ceeded to  Omagh.  The  rain  fell:  the  wind  blew:  the 
horses  could  scarcely  make  their  way  through  the  mud, 
and  in  the  face  of  the  storm;  and  the  road  was  frequently 
intersected  by  torrents  which  might  almost  be  called  riv- 
ers. The  travellers  had  to  pass  several  fords  where  the 
water  was  breast  high.  Some  of  the  party  fainted  from 
fatigue  and  hunger.  All  around  lay  a  f rightfuLwilderness. 
In  a  journey  of  forty  miles  Avaux  counted  only  three  mis- 
erable cabins.  Everything  else  was  rock,  bog,  and  moor. 
When  at  length  the  travellers  reached  Omagh,  they  found 
it  in  ruins.  The  Protestants,  who  were  the  majority  of 
the  inhabitants,  had  abandoned  it,  leaving  not  a  wisp  of 
straw  nor  a  cask  of  liquor.  The  windows  had  been  broken: 
the  chimneys  had  been  beaten  in:  the  very  locks  and  bolts 
of  the  doors  had  been  carried  away.  J 

Avaux  had  never  ceased  to  press  the  King  to  return  to 
Dublin:  but  these  expostulations  had  hitherto  produced 
no  effect.  The  obstinacy  of  James,  however,  was  an  obsti- 
nacy which  had  nothing  in  common  with  manly  resolution, 
and  which,  though  proof  to  argument,  was  easily  shaken 
by  caprice.  He  received  at  Omagh,  early  on  the  sixteenth 
of  April,  letters  which  alarmed  him.  He  learned  that  a 
strong  body  of  Protestants  was  in  arms  at  Strabane,  and 
that  English  ships  of  war  had  been  seen  near  the  mouth 
of  Lough  Foyle.  In  one  minute  three  messages  were  sent 
to  summon  Avaux  to  the  ruinous  chamber  in  which  the 


*  This  lamentable  account  of  the  Irish  beer  is  taken  from  a  despatch  which  Desgrigny 
wrote  from  Cork  to  Louvois,  and  which  is  in  the  archives  of  the  French  War  Office. 
Avaux,  April  13-23,  1689;  April  20-30. 
t  Avaux  to  Lewis,  April  15-2,5,  1689,  Louvois,  of  the  s^in^  4atf, 


146 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANDo 


royal  bed  had  been  prepared.  There  James^  half  dressed, 
and  with  the  air  of  a  man  bewildered  by  some  great  shock, 
announced  his  resolution  to  hasten  back  instantly  to  Dub- 
lin. Avaux  listened,  wondered  and  approved.  Melfort 
seemed  prostrated  by  despair.  The  travellers  retraced 
their  steps,  and,  late  in  the  evening  got  back  to  Charlemont. 
There  the  King  received  dispatches  very  different  from 
those  which  had  terrified  him  a  few  hours  before.  The 
Protestants  who  had  assembled  near  Strabane  had  been 
attacked  by  Hamilton.  Under  a  true-hearted  leader  they 
would  doubtless  have  stood  their  ground.  But  Lundy, 
who  commanded  them,  had  told  them  that  all  was  lost, 
had  ordered  them  to  shift  for  themselves,  and  had  set  them 
the  example  of  flight.*  They. had  accordingly  retired  in 
confusion  to  Londonderry,  The  King's  correspondents 
pronounced  it  to  be  impossible  that  Londonderry  should 
hold  out.  His  Majesty  had  only  to  appear  before  the 
gates;  and  they  would  instantly  fly  open.  James  now 
changed  his  mind  again,  blamed  himself  for  having  been 
persuaded  to  turn  his  face  southward,  and,  though  it  was 
late  in  the  evening,  called  for  his  horses.  The  horses  were 
in  miserable  plight;  but,  weary  and  half-starved  as  they 
^  were,  they  were  saddled.  Melfort,  completely  victorious, 
carried  off  his  master  to  the  camp.  Avaux,  after  remon- 
strating to  no  purpose,  declared  that  he  was  resolved  to 
return  to  Dublin.  It  hiay  be  suspected  that  the  extreme 
discomfort  which  he  had  undergone  had  something  to  do 
with  this  resolution.  For  complaints  of  that  discomfort 
make  up  a  large  part  of  his  letters;  and,  in  truth,  a  life 
passed  in  the  palaces  of  Italy,  in  the  neat  parlors  and  gar- 
dens of  Holland,  and  in  the  luxurious  pavilions  which 
adorned  the  suburbs  of  Paris,  was  a  bad  preparation  for 
the  ruined  hovels  of  Ulster.  He  gave,  however,  to  his 
master  a  more  weighty  reason  for  refusing  to  proceed 
northward.  The  journey  of  James  had  been  undertaken 
in  opposition  to  the  unanimous  sense  of  the  Irish,  and  had 
excited  great  alarm  among  them.  They  apprehended 
that  he  meant  to  quit  them,  and  to  make  a  descent  on 
Scotland.  They  knew  that  once  landed  in  Great  Britain, 
he  would  have  neither  the  will,  nor  the  power  to  do  those 
things  which  they  most  desired.  Avaux,  by  refusing  to 
proceed  further,  gave  them  an  assurance  that,  whoever 


♦  Commons'  Journals,  Aug.  12,  1689;  Mackenzie's  Narrative. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


147 


might  betray  them,  France  would  be  their  constant  friend.* 
While  Avaux  was  on  his  way  to  Dublin,  James  hastened  to- 
wards Londonderry.  He  found  his  army  concentrated  a 
few  miles  south  of  the  city.  The  French  generals  who 
had  sailed  with  him  from  Brest  were  in  his  train;  and  two 
of  them,  Rosen  and  Maumont,  were  placed  over  the  head 
of  Richard  Hamilton. f  Rosen  was  a  native  of  Livonia, 
who  had  in  early  youth  become  a  soldier  of  fortune,  who 
had  fought  his  way  to  distinction,  and  who,  though  utterly 
destitute  of  the  graces  and  accomplishments  character- 
istic of  the  court  of  Versailles,  was  nevertheless  high  in 
favor  there.  His  temper  was  savage:  his  manners  werecoarse; 
his  language  was  a  strange  jargon  compounded  of  various 
dialects  of  French  and  German.  Even  those  who  thought 
best  of  him,  and  who  maintained  that  his  rough  exterior  cov- 
ered some  good  qualities,  owned  that  his  looks  were  against 
him,  and  that  it  would  be  unpleasant  to  meet  such  a  figure 
in  the  dusk  at  the  corner  of  a  wood. J  The  little  that  is 
known  of  Maumont  is  to  his  honor. 

In  the  camp  it  was  generally  expected  that  London- 
derry would  fall  without  a  blow.  Rosen  confidently  pre- 
dicted that  the  mere  sight  of  the  Irish  army  would  terrify 
the  garrison  into  submission.  But  Richard  Hamilton, 
who  knew  the  temper  of  the  colonists  better,  had  misgiv- 
ings. The  assailants  were  sure  of  one  important  ally  with- 
in the  walls.  Lundy,  the  Governor,  professed  the  Protest- 
ant religion  and  had  joined  in  proclaiming  William  and 
Mary;  but  he  was  in  secret  communication  with  the  ene- 
mies of  his  Church  and  of  the  Sovereigns  to  whom  he  had 
sworn  fealty.  Some  have  suspected  that  he  was  a  con- 
cealed Jacobite,  and  that  he  had  affected  to  acquiesce  in 
the  Revolution  only  in  order  that  he  might  be  better  able 
to  assist  in  bringing  about  a  Restoration,  but  it  is  prob- 
able that  his  conduct  is  rather  to  be  attributed  to  faint- 
heartedness and  poverty  of  spirit  than  to  zeal  for  any 
public  cause.  He  seems  to  have  thought  resistance  hope- 
less; and  in  truth,  to  a  military  eye,  the  defences  of  Lon- 
donderry appeared  contemptible.  The  fortifications  con- 
sisted of  a  simple  wail  overgrown  with  grass  and  weeds: 

*  Avaux,  April  17-27,  1689.    The  story  of  these  strange  changes  of  purpose  is  told  very 
disingenuously  by  James  in  his  Life,  ii.  330,  331,  332.    Orig.  Mem. 
t  Life  of  James,  ii.  334,  335.    Orig.  Mem. 

X  Memoirs  of  Saint  bimon.  Some  English  writers  ignorantly  speak  of  Rosen  as  hav- 
ing been,  at  this  time,  a  Marshal  of  France.  He  did  not  become  so  till  1703.  He  had 
long  been  a  Marechal  de  Camp,  which  is  a  very  different  thing,  and  had  been  recently 
promoted  to  the  rank  of  Lieutenant-General,  «»i«i«sssai.  ^ 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


there  was  no  ditch  even  before  the  gates:  the  draw-bridgeS 
had  long  been  neglected:  the  chains  were  rusty  and  could 
scarcely  be  used:  the  parapets  and  towers  were  built  after 
a  fashion  that  might  well  move  disciples  of  Vauban  to 
laughter;  and  these  feeble  defences  were  on  almost  every 
side  commanded  by  heights.  Indeed  those  who  laid  out 
the  city  had  never  meant  that  it  should  be  able  to  stand  a 
regular  siege,  and  had  contented  themselves  with  throw- 
ing up  works  sufficient  to  protect  the  inhabitants  against  a 
tumultuary  attack  of  the  Celtic  peasantry.  Avaux  as- 
sured Louvois  that  a  single  French  battalion  would  easily 
storm  such  a  fastness.  Even  if  the  place  should,  notwith- 
standing all  disadvantages,  be  able  to  repel  a  large  army 
directed  by  the  science  and  experience  of  generals  who 
had  served  under  Conde  and  Turenne,  hunger  must  soon 
bring  the  contest  to  an  end.  The  stock  of  provisions  was 
small;  and  the  population  had  been  swollen  to  seven  or 
eight  times  the  ordinary  number  by  a  multitude  of  colon- 
ists flying  from  the  rage  of  the  natives.* 

Lundy,  therefore,  from  the  time  when  the  Irish  army 
entered  Ulster,  seems  to  have  given  up  all  thought  of  ser- 
ious resistance.  He  talked  so  despondingly  that  the  citi- 
zens and  his  own  soldiers  murmured  against  hirn.  He 
seemed,  they  said,  to  be  bent  on  discouraging  them. 
Meanwhile  the  enemy  drew  daily  nearer  and  nearer;  and 
it  was  known  that  James  himself  was  coming  to  take  the 
command  of  his  forces. 

Just  at  this  moment  a  glimpse  of  hope  appeared.  On 
the  fourteenth  of  April  ships  from  England  anchored  in 
the  bay.  They  had  on  board  two  regiments  which  had 
been  sent,  under  the  command  of  a  colonel  named  Cun- 
ningham, to  reinforce  the  garrison.  Cunningham  and  sev- 
eral of  his  officers  went  on  shore  and  conferred  with  Lundy. 
Lundy  dissuaded  them  from  landing  their  men.  The 
place,  he  said,  could  not  hold  out.  To  throw  more  troops 
into  it  would  therefore  be  worse  than  useless:  for  the  more 
numerous  the  garrison,  the  more  prisoners  would  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  The  best  thing  that  the  two 
regiments  could  do  would  be  to  sail  back  to  England.  He 
meant,  he  said,  to  withdraw  himself  privately;  and  the  in- 
habitants must  then  try  to  make  good  terms  for  them- 
selves.   

♦  Avaux,  April  4-14,  1689.  Ampng  the  MSi(ifc  if^  ^he  British  Museum  is  a  curious  re- 
port on  the  defences  of  Londonderry,  draw»  «p  in  1705  for  the  Duke  of  Ormond  by  9 
french  engineer  named  Thomas. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


149 


He  went  through  the  form  of  holding  a  council  of  war, 
but  from  this  council  he  excluded  all  those  officers  of  the 
garrison  whose  sentiments  he  knew  to  be  different  from 
his  own.  Some  who  had  ordinarily  been  summoned  on 
such  occasions,  and  who  now  came  uninvited,  were  thrust 
out  of  the  room.  Whatever  the  Governor  said  was  echoed 
by  his  creatures.  Cunningham  and  Cunningham's  com- 
panions could  scarcely  venture  to  oppose  their  opinion  to 
that  of  a  person  whose  local  knowledge  was  necessarily 
far  superior  to  theirs,  and  whom  they  were  by  their  in- 
structiojis  directed  to  obey.  One  brave  soldier  murmured, 
"Understand  this,"  he  said:  "  to  give  up  Londonderry  is 
to  give  up  Ireland."  But  his  objections  were  contemptu- 
ously overruled.*  The  meeting  broke  up.  Cunningham 
and  his  officers  returned  to  the  ships,  and  made  prepara- 
tions for  departing.  Meanwhile  Lundy  privately  sent  a 
messenger  to  the  headquarters  of  the  enemy,  with  assur- 
ances that  the  city  should  be  peaceably  surrendered  on 
the  first  summons. 

But  as  soon  as  what  had  passed  in  the  council  of  war 
was  whispered  about  the  streets,  the  spirit  of  the  soldiers 
and  citizens  swelled  up  high  and  fierce  against  the  das- 
tardly and  perfidious  chief  who  had  betrayed  them.  Many  of 
his  own  officers  declared  that  they  no  longer  thought  them- 
selves bound  to  obey  him.  Voices  were  heard  threatening, 
some  ttiat  his  brains  should  be  blown  out,  some  that  he 
should  be  hanged  on  the  walls.  A  deputation  was  sent  to 
Cunningham  imploring  him  to  assume  the  command.  He 
excused  himself  on  the  plausible  ground  that  his  orders 
were  to  take  directions  in  all  things  from  the  Governor.f 
Meanwhile  it  was  rumored  that  the  persons  most  in  Lun- 
dy's  confidence  were  stealing  out  of  the  town  one  by  one.  . 
Long  after  dusk  on  the  evening  of  the  seventeenth  it  was 
found  that  the  gates  were  open  and  that  the  keys  had  dis- 
appeared. The  officers  who  made  the  discovery  took  on 
themselves  to  change  the  passwords  and  to  double  the 
guards.  The  night,  however,  passed  over  without  any 
assault.;]; 

After  some  anxious  hours  the  day  broke.  The  Irish, 
with  James  at  their  head,  were  now  within  four  miles  of 
the  city.    A  tumultuous  council  of  the  chief  inhabitants 

*  Commons'  Journals,  August  12,  1689. 

t  The  best  history  of  these  transactions  will  be  found  in  the  Journals  of  the  House  o£ 
Commons,  August  12,  1-689.    See  also  the  narratives  of  Walker  and  Mackenzie. 
^  Mackenzie  8  Narrative- 


^  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


was  called.  Some  of  them  vehemently  reproached  the 
Governor  to  his  face  with  his  treachery.  He  had  sold 
them,  they  cried,  to  their  deadliest  enemy:  he  had  refused 
admission  to  the  force  which  good  King  William  had  sent 
to  defend  them.  While  the  altercation  was  at  the  height, 
the  sentinels  who  paced  the  ramparts  announced  that  the 
vanguard  of  the  hostile  army  was  in  sight.  Lundy  had 
given  orders  that  there  should  be  no  firing:  but  his  author- 
ity was  at  an  end.  Two  gallant  soldiers,  Major  Henry 
Baker  and  Captain  Adam  Murray,  called  the  people  to 
arms.  They  were  assisted  by  the  eloquence  of  an  aged 
clergyman,  George  Walker,  rector  of  the  parish  of  Do- 
naghmore,  who  had,  with  many  of  his  neighbors,  taken 
refuge  in  Londonderry.  The  whole  crowded  city  was 
moved  by  one  impulse.  Soldiers,  gentlemen,  yeomen, 
artisans,rushed  to  the  walls  and  manned  the  guns.  James, 
who,  confident  of  success,  had  approached  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  southern  gate,  was  received  with  a  shou*- 
of  ^*No  surrender,"  and  with  a  fire  from  the  nearest 
bastion.  An  officer  of  his  staff  fell  dead  by  his  side.  The 
King  and  his  attendants  made  all  haste  to  get  out  of  reach 
of  the  cannon  balls.  Lundy,  who  was  now  in  imminent 
danger  of  being  torn  limb  from  limb  by  those  whom  he 
had  betrayed,  hid  himself  in  an  inner  chamber.  There  he 
lay  during  the  day,  and,  with  the  generous  and  politic 
connivance  of  Murray  and  Walker,  made  his  escape  at 
night  in  the  disguise  of  a  porter."^  The  part  of  the  wall 
from  which  he  let  himself  down  is  still  pointed  out;  and 
people  still  living  talk  of  having  tasted  the  fruit  of  a  pear 
tree  which  assisted  him  in  his  descent.  His  name  is,  to 
this  day,  held  in  execration  by  the  Protestants  of  the  North 
of  Ireland;  and  his  effigy  is  still  annually  hung  and  burned 
by  them  with  marks  of  abhorrence  similar  to  those  which 
in  England  are  appropriated  to  Guy  Faux. 

And  now  Londonderry  was  left  destitute  of  all  military 
and  of  all  civil  government.  No  man  in  the  town  had  a 
right  to  command  any  other:  the  defences  were  weak:  the 
provisions  were  scanty:  an  incensed  tyrant  and  a  great 
army  were  at  the  gates.  But  within  was  that  which  has 
often,  in  desperate  extremities,  retrieved  the  fallen  fortunes 
of  nations.  Betrayed,  deserted,  disorganized,  unprovided 
with  resources,  begirt  with  enemies,  the  noble  city  was 
still  no  easy  conquest.    Whatever  an  engineer  might  think 

*  Walk»r  and  MackMuie. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


of  the  Strength  af  the  ramparts,  all  that  was  most  intel- 
ligent, most  courageous,  most  high-spirited  among  the 
Knglishry  of  Leinster  and  of  Northern  Ulster  was  crowded 
behind  them.  The  number  of  men  capable  of  bearing 
arms  within  the  walls  was  seven  thousand;  and  the  whole 
world  could  not  have  furnished  seven  thousand  men  bet- 
ter qualified  to  meet  a  terrible  emergency  with  clear  judg- 
ment, dauntless  valor,  and  stubborn  patience.  They  were 
all  zealous  Protestants;  and  the  Protestantism  of  the  ma- 
jority was  tinged  with  Puritanism.  They  had  much  in 
common  with  that  sober,  resolute,  and  God-fearing  class 
out  of  which  Cromwell  had  formed  his  unconquerable 
army.  But  the  peculiar  situation  in  which  they  had  been 
placed  had  developed  in  them  some  qualities  which,  in  the 
mother  country,  might  possibly  have  remained  latent.  The 
English  inhabitants  of  Ireland  were  an  aristocratic  caste, 
which  had  been  enabled,  by  superior  civilization,  by  close 
union,  by  sleepless  vigilance,  by  cool  intrepidity,  to  keep 
in  subjection  a  numerous  and  hostile  population.  Almost 
every  one  of  them  had  been  in  some  measure  trained  both 
to  military  and  to  political  functions.  Almost  every  one  was 
familiar  with  the  use  of  arms,  and  was  accustomed  to  bear 
a  part  in  the  administration  of  justice.  It  was  remarked 
by  contemporary  writers  that  the  colonists  had  something 
of  the  Castilian  haughtness  of  manner,  though  none  of  the 
Castilian  indolence/ that  they  spoke  English  with  remark- 
able purity  and  correctness,  and  that  they  were,  both  as 
militiamen  and  as  jurymen,  superior  to  their  kindred  in  the 
mother  country.*  In  all  ages,  men  situated  as  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  in  Ireland  were  situated  have  had  peculiar  vices 
and  peculiar  virtues,  the  vices  and  virtues  of  masters,  as 
opposed  to  the  vices  and  virtues  of  slaves.  The  member 
of  a  dominant  race  is,  in  his  dealings  with  the  subject  race, 
seldom  indeed  fraudulent, — for  fraud  is  the  resource 
of  the  weak, — but  imperious,  insolent,  and  cruel.  To- 
wards his  brethren,  on  the  other  hand,  his  conduct  is 
generally  just,  kind,  and  even  noble.  His  self-respect  leads 
him  to  respect  all  who  belong  to  his  own  order.  His  in- 
terest impels  him  to  cultivate  a  good  understanding  with 
those  whose  prompt,  strenuous,  and  courageous  assistance 
may  at  any  moment  be  necessary  to  preserve  his  property 

♦  See  the  Character  of  the  Protestants  of  Ireland,  1689,  and  the  Interests  of  England 
in  the  Preservation  of  Ireland,  1689.  The  fonuer  pamphlet  is  the  work  of  an  en^jay. 
the  ktter  of  a  ?calpu§  fri^ii^, 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  life.  It  is  a  truth  ever  present  to  his  mind  that  his 
own  well-being  depends  on  the  ascendency  of  the  class  to 
which  he  belongs.  His  very  selfishness  therefore  is  sub- 
limed into  public  spirit;  and  this  public  spirit  is  stimulated 
to  fierce  enthusiasm  by  sympathy,  by  the  desire  of  ap- 
plause, and  by  the  dread  of  infamy.  For  the  only  opinion 
which  he  values  is  the  opinion  of  his  fellows;  and  in  their 
opinion  devotion  to  the  common  cause  is  the  most  sacred 
of  duties.  The  character,  thus  formed,  has  two  aspects- 
Seen  on  one  side,  it  must  be  regarded  by  every  well  con^ 
stituted  mind  with  disapprobation.  Seen  on  the  other,  it 
irresistibly  extorts  applause.  The  Spartan,  smiting  an-d 
spurning  the  wretched  Helot,  moves  our  disgust.  But  the 
same  Spartan,  calmly  dressing  his  hair,  and  uttering  his 
concise  jests,  on  what  he  well  knows  to  be  his  last  day,  in 
the  pass  of  Thermopylae,  is  not  to  be  contemplated  without 
admiration.  To  a  superficial  observer  it  may  seem  strange 
that  so  much  evil  and  so  much  good  should  he  found  to- 
gether. But  in  truth  the  good  and  the  evil,  which  at  first 
sight  appear  almost  incompatible,  are  closely  connected, 
and  have  a  common  origin.  It  was  because  the  Spartan 
had  been  taught  to  revere  himself  as  one  of  a  race  of 
sovereigns,  and  to  look  down  on  all  that  was  not  Spartan 
as  of  an  inferior  species,  that  he  had  no  fellow  feeling  for 
the  miserable  serfs  who  crouched  before  him,  and  that  the 
thought  of  submitting  to  a  foreign  master,  or  of  turning 
his  back  before  an  enemy,  never,  even  in  the  last  extre- 
mity, crossed  his  mind.  Something  of  the  same  character, 
compounded  of  tyrant  and  hero,  has  been  found  in  all  na- 
tions which  have  domineered  over  more  numerous  nations. 
But  it  has  nowhere  in  modern  Europe  shown  itself  so  con- 
spicuously as  in  Ireland.  With  what  contempt,  with  what 
antipathy,  the  ruling  minority  in  that  country  long  re- 
garded the  subject  majority  may  be  best  learned  from  the 
hateful  laws  which,  within  the  memory  of  men  still  living, 
disgraced  the  Irish  statute  book.  Those  laws  were  at 
length  annulled:  but  the  spirit  which  had  dictated 
them  survived  them,  and  even  at  this  day  some- 
times breaks  out  in  excesses  pernicious  to  the  com- 
monwealth and  dishonorable  to  the  Protestant  re- 
ligion. Nevertheless  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that 
the  English  colonists  have  had,  with  too  many  of  the 
faults,  all  the  noblest  virtues  of  a  sovereign  caste.  The 
fault;^  have^  as  was  natural^  been  most  offensively  exhibited 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


in  times  of  prosperity  and  security:  the  virtues  have  been 
most  resplendent  in  times  of  distress  and  peril;  and  never 
were  those  virtues  more  signally  displayed  than  by  the  de- 
fenders of  Londonderry,  when  their  governor  had  aband- 
oned them,  and  when  the  camp  of  their  mortal  enemy  was 
pitched  before  their  walls. 

No  sooner  had  the  first  burst  of  the  rage  excited  by  the 
perfidy  of  Lundy  spent  itself  than  those  v/hom  he  had  be- 
trayed proceeded,  with  a  gravity  and  prudence  worthy  of 
the  most  renowned  senate,  to  provide  for  the  order  and  de- 
fence of  the  city.  Two  governors  were  elected.  Baker  and 
Walker.  Baker  took  the  chief  military  command.  Wal- 
ker's especial  business  was  to  preserve  internal  tranquillity, 
and  to  dole  out  supplies  from  the  magazines.*  The  in- 
habitants capable  of  bearing  arms  were  distributed  into 
eight  regiments.  Colonels,  captains,  and  subordinate  offi- 
cers were  appointed.  In  a  few  hours  every  man  knew  his 
post,  and  was  ready  to  repair  to  it  as  soon  as  the  beat  of 
the  drum  was  heard.  That  machinery,  by  which  Oliver 
had,  in  the  preceding  generation,  kept  up  among  his 
soldiers  so  stern  and  so  pertinacious  an  enthusiasm,  was 
again  employed  with  not  less  complete  success.  Preaching 
and  praying  occupied  a  large  part  of  every  day.  Eighteen 
clergymen  of  the  Established  Church  and  seven  or  eight 
non-conformist  ministers  were  within  the  walls.  They  all 
exerted  themselves  indefatigably  to  rouse  and  sustain  the 
spirit  of  the  people.  Among  themselves  there  was  for  the 
time  entire  harmony.  All  disputes  about  church  govern- 
ment, postures,  ceremonies  were  forgotten.  The  Bishop, 
having  found  that  his  lectures  on  passive  obedience  were 
derided  even  by  the  Episcopalians,  had  withdrawn  himself 
first  to  Raphoe,  and  then  to  England,  and  was  preaching 
in  a  chapel  in  London. f  On  the  other  hand,  a  Scotch  fan- 
atic named  Hewson,  who  had  exhorted  the  Presbyterians 
not  to  ally  themselves  with  such  as  refused  to  subscribe 
the  Covenant,  had  sunk  under  the  well-merited  disgust 
and  scorn  of  the  whole  Protestant  community.];  The  as- 
pect of   the  Cathedral    was    remarkable.    Cannon  were 

♦  There  was  afterwards  some  idle  dispute  about  the  question  whether  Walker  was 
properly  governor  or  not.     To  me  it  seems  quite  clear  that  he  was  so. 

t  Mackenzie's  Narrative;  Funeral  sermon  on  Bishop  Hopkins,  1690. 

%  Walker's  True  Account,  1689.  See  also  the  Apology  for  the  True  Account,  and  the 
Vindication  of  the  True  Account,  published  in  the  same  year.  I  have  called  this  man 
by  the  name  by  which  he  was  known  in  Ireland.  But  his  real  name  was  Houstoun.  He 
is  frequently  mentioned  in  the  strange  volume  entitled  Faithful  Contendings  Dis- 
played. 

V01-.  iii-e. 


154 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


planted  on  the  summit  of  the  broad  tower  which  has  since 
given  place  to  a  tower  of  different  proportions.  Ammuni- 
tion was  stored  in  the  vaults.  In  the  choir  the  liturgy  of 
the  Anglican  Church  was  read  every  morning.  Every  after- 
noon the  Dissenters  crowded  to  a  simpler  worship.* 

James  had  waited  twenty-four  hours,  expecting,  as  it 
should  seem,  performance  of  Lundy's  promises;  and  in 
twenty-four  hours  the  arrangements  for  the  defence  of 
Londonderry  were  completCc  On  the  evening  of  the  nine- 
teenth of  April,  a  trumpeter  came  to  the  southern  gate, 
and  asked  whether  the  engagements  into  which  the  gov- 
ernor had  entered  would  be  fulfilled.  The  answer  was  that 
the  men  who  guarded  these  walls  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  governor's  engagements,  and  were  determined  to  re- 
sist to  the  last. 

On  the  following  day  a  messenger  of  the  higher  rank 
was  sent,  Claude  Hamilton,  Lord  Strabane,  one  of  the  few 
Roman  Catholic  peers  of  Ireland.  Murray,  who  had  been 
appointed  to  the  command  of  one  of  the  eight  regiments 
into  which  the  g'arrison  was  distributed,  advanced  from 
the  gate  to  meet  the  flag -of  truce;  and  a  short  conference 
was  held.  Strabane  had  been  authorized  to  make  large 
promises.  The  citizens  should  have  a  free  pardon  for  all 
that  was  past  if  they  would  submit  to  their  sovereign.  Mur- 
ray himself  should  have  a  colonel's  commission,  and  a 
thousand  pounds  in  money.  ''The  men  of  Londonderry," 
answered  Murray,  "have  done  nothing  that  requires  a 
pardon,  and  own  no  Sovereign  but  King  William  and 
Queen  Mary.  It  will  not  be  safe  for  your  lordship  to 
stay  longer,  or  to  return  on  the  same  errand.  Let  me  have 
the  honor  of  seeing  you  through  the  lines. "f 

James  had  been  assured,  and  had  fully  expected  that  the 
city  would  yield  as  soon  as  it  was  known  that  he  was  be- 
fore the  walls.  Finding  himself  mistaken,  he  broke  loose 
from  the  control  of  Meifort,  and  determined  to  return  in- 
stantly to  Dublin.  Rosen  accompanied  the  King.  The  di- 
rection of  the  siege  was  entrusted  to  Maumont.  Richard 
Hamilton  was  second  and  Pusignan  third,  in  command. 

The  operations  now  commenced  in  earnest.  The  be- 
siegers began  by  battering  the  town.  It  was  soon  on  fire 
in  several  places.  Roofs  and  upper  stories  of  houses,  fell 
in,  and  crushed  the  inmates.    During  a  short  time  thegar- 


*  A.  view  of  the  Danger  and  Folly  of  bcins;  public-spirited,  by  William  Hamill,  172;. 
t  See  Walker's  True  Account  and  IVl^ckcnaie's  Narrative. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


155 


rison,  many  of  whom  had  never  before  seen  the  effect  of  a 
cannonade,  seemed  to  be  discomposed  by  the  crash  oi 
chimneys,  and  by  the  heaps  of  ruin  mingled  with  disfig- 
ured corpses.  But  familiarity  with  danger  and  horror  pro- 
duced in  a  few  hours  the  natural  effect.  The  .spirit  of  the 
people  rose  so  high  that  their  chiefs  thought  it  safe  to  act 
on  the  offensive.  On  the  twenty-first  of  April  a  sally  was 
made  under  the  command  of  Murray.  The  Irish  stood 
their  ground  resolutely;  and  a  furious  and  bloody  contest 
took  place.  Maumont,  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  cavalry, 
flew  to  the  place  where  the  fight  was  raging.  He  was 
struck  in  the  head  by  a  musket  ball,  and  fell  a  corpse.  The 
besiegers  lost  several  other  officers,  and  about  two  hun- 
dred men,  before  the  colonists  could  be  driven  in.  Murray 
escaped  with  difficulty.  His  horse  was  killed  under  him; 
and  he  was  beset  by  enemies:  but  he  was  able  to  defend 
himself  till  some  of  his  friends  made  a  rush  from  the  gate 
to  his  rescue,  with  old  Walker  at  their  head.* 

In  consequence  of  the  death  of  Maumont,  Richard  Ham- 
ilton was. once  more  commander  of  the  Irish  army.  His 
exploits  in  that  post  did  not  raise  his  reputation.  He  was 
a  fine  gentleman  and  a  brave  soldier;  but  he  had  no  pre- 
tensions to  the  character  of  a  great  general,  and  had  never, 
in  his  life,  seen  a  siege. f  Pusignan  had  more  science  and 
energy.  But  Pusignan  survived  Maumont  little  more  than 
a  fortnight.  At  four  in  the  morning  of  the  sixth  of  May, 
the  garrison  made  another  sally,  took  several  flags,  and 
killed  many  of  the  besiegers.  Pusignan,  fighting  gallantly^ 
was  shot  through  the  body.  The  wound  was  one  which  a 
skillful  surgeon  might  have  cured:  but  there  was  no  such 
surgeon  in  the  Irish  camp,  and  the  communication  with 
Dublin  was  slow  and  irregular.  The  poor  Frenchman 
died,  complaining  bitterly  of  the  barbarous  ignorance  and 
negligence  which  had  shortened  his  days.  A  medical  man, 
who  had  been  sent  down  express  from  the  capital,  arrived 

*  Walker;  Mackenzie;  Avaux,  ^p^^'  1689.  There  is  a  tradition  among  the  Protest- 
ants of  Ulster  that  Maumont  fell  by  the  sword  of  Murray;  but  on  this  point  the  report 
made  by  the  French  ambassador  to  his  master  is  decisive.  The  truth  is  that  there  are 
almost  as  many  mythical  stories  about  the  siege  of  Londonderry,  as  about  the  siege  of 
Troy.  The  legend  about  Murray  and  Maumont  dates  from  1689.  In  the  Royal  Voyage^ 
which  was  acted  in  that  year,  the  combat  between  the  heroes  is  described  in  these  sonc^ 
rous  lines: 

**  They  met;  and  Monsieur  at  the  first  encounter 
Fell  dead,  blaspheming,  on  the  dusty  plain, 
And  dying,  bit  the  groand.'' 
t  "Si  c'est  celuy  qui  est  sorti  de  France  le  dernier,  qui  s'appelloit  Richard,  il  n'a  jamais 
reu  de  si^ge,  ayant  tousjours  sepvi  en  Rousillon," — Louvois  to  Avaux,  June  .vi3,  x689. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


after  the  funeral.  James,  in  consequence,  as  it  should 
seem,  of  this  disaster,  established  a  daily  post  between 
Dublin  Castle  and  Kamiltort's  headquarters.  Even  by  this 
conveyance  letters  did  not  travel  very  expeditiously:  for 
the  couriers^  went  on  foot,  and,  from  fear  probably  of  the 
Enniskilleners,  took  a  circuitous  route  from  military  post 
to  military  post.* 

May  passed  away:  June  arrived;  and  still  Londonderry 
held  out.  There  had  been  many  sallies  and  skirmishes 
w  ith  various  success:  but.  on  the  W'hole,  the  advantage  had 
been  w4th  the  garrison.  Several  officers  of  note  had  been 
carried  prisoners  into  the  city;  and  two  French  banners, 
torn  after  hard  fighting  from  the  besiegers,  had  been  hung 
as  trophies  in  the  chancel  of  the  cathedral.  It  seemed 
that  the  siege  must  be  turned  into  a  blockade.  But  before 
the  hope  of  reducing  the  tow^n  by  mjain  force  was  relin- 
quished, it  was  determined  to  make  a  great  effort.  The 
point  selected  for  assault  was  an  outwork  called  Windmill 
Hill,  which  was  not  far  from  the  southern  gate.  Religious 
stimulants  were  employed  to  animate  the  courage  of  the 
forlorn  hope.  Many  volunteers  bound  themselves  by  oath 
to  make  their  w^ay  into  the  works  or  to  perish  in  the  at- 
tempt. Captain  Butler,  son  of  the  Lord  Mountgarret, 
undertook  to  lead  the  sworn  men  to  the  attack.  On  the 
vvalls  the  colonists  were  drawn  up  in  three  ranks.  The 
office  of  those  who  were  behind  was  to  load  the  muskets 
of  those  who  were  in  front.  The  Irish  came  on  boldly  and 
with  a  fearful  uproar,  but  after  long  and  hard  fighting 
were  driven  back.  The  women  of  Londonderry  were  seei;i 
amidst  the  thickest  fire  serving  out  water  and  ammunition 
to  their  husbands  and  brothers.  In  one  place,  where  the 
w^all  was  only  seven  feet  high,  Butler  and  some  of  his 
sworn  men  succeeded  in  reaching  the  top;  but  they  were 
all  killed  or  made  prisoners.  At  length,  after  four  hun- 
dred of  the  Irish  had  fallen,  their  chiefs  ordered  a  retreat 
to  be  sounded. f 

Nothing  was  left  but  to  try  the  effect  pf  hunger.  It  was 
known  that  the  stock  of  food  in  the  rlty  was  but  slender. 

♦  Walker;  Mackenzie;  Avaux  to  Lo'-'.eoic,  May  c-i;?,  4-14,  1689;  James  to  Hamilton, 
^^-in  the  library  of  the  Roy^sl  Irish  Aca'^iemy,  Louvois  wrote  to  Avaux  in  great  in- 
diKnation.  ''La  mauvaise  conduitc  que  Ton  a  tenue  devant  Londondery  a  coust^  la  vi« 
k  M.  de  IMaumont  et  a  M.  de  PusiKnan.  II  nc  faut  pas  que  sa  Majesty  Britannique  croye 
qu'en  faisant  tuer  des  cfficiers  generaux  conmie  des  soldats,  on  puissc  ne  Ten  point 
laisser  manquer.  Ces  sortes  de  gens  sont  larcs  en  tout  pays,  et  doivent  estrc  menagex.' 
t  Walker;  Mackenzie;  Avaux,  June  iC-uG,  1689. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


Indeed  it  was  thought  strange  that  the  supplies  should 
have  held  out  so  long.  Every  precaution  was  now  taken 
against  the  introduction  of  provisions.  All  the  avenues  lead- 
ing to  the  city  by  land  were  closely  guarded.  On  the  south 
were  encamped,  along  the  left  bank  of  the  Foyle,  the  horse- 
men who  had  followed  Lord  Galmoy  from  the  valley  of  the 
Barrow.  Their  chief  was,  of  all  the  Irish  captains,  the 
most  dreaded  and  the  most  abhorred  by  the  Protestants. 
For  he  had  disciplined  his  men  with  rare  skill  and  care; 
and  many  frightful  stories  were  told  of  his  barbarity  and 
perfidy.  Long  lines  of  tents,  occupied  by  the  infantry  of 
Butler  and  O'Neil,  of  Lord  Slane  and  Lord  Gormanstown, 
by  Nugent's  Westmeath  men,  by  Eustace's  Kildare  men, 
and  by  Cavanagh's  Kerry  men,  extended  northward  till 
they  again  approached  the  water  side."^  The  river  was 
fringed  with  forts  and  batteries,  which  no  vessel  could 
pass  without  great  peril.  After  some  time  it  was  deter-' 
mined  to  make  the  security  still  more  complete  by  throw- 
ing a  barricade  across  the  stream,  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
below  the  city.  Several  boats  full  of  stones  were  sunk. 
A  row  of  stakes  was  driven  into  the  bottom  of  the  river. 
Large  pieces  of  fir- wood,  strongly  bound  together,  formed 
a  boom  which  was  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length 
and  which  was  firmly  fastened  to  both  shores  by  cables  a 
foot  thick. f  A  huge  stone,  to  which  the  cable  on  the  left 
bank  wa^  attached,  was  removed  many  years  later,  for  the 
purpose  of  being  polished  and  shaped  into  a  column.  But 
the  intention  w^as  abandoned,  and  the  rugged  mass  still 
lies,  not  many  yards  from  its  original  site,  amidst  the 
shades  which  surround  a  pleasant  country  house  named 
Boom  Hall.  Hard  by  is  a  well  from  which  the  besiegers 
drank.  "A  little  further  off  is  a  burial  ground  where  they 
laid  their  slain,  and  where  even  in  our  own  time  the  spade 
of  the  gardener  has  struck  upon  many  skulls  and  thigh- 
bones at  a  short  distance  beneath  the  turf  and  flowers. 

While  these  things  were  passing  in  the  North,  James 
was  holding  his  court  at  Dublin.  On  his  return  thither 
from  Londonderry  he  received  intelligence  that  the  French 

*  As  to  the  discipline  of  Galmoy's  Horse,  see  the  letter  of  Avaux  to  Louvois,  dated 
September  10-20.  Horrible  stories  of  the  cruelty,  both  of  the  colonel  and  of  his  men, 
are  fold  in  the  Short  View,  by  a  Clergyman,  printed  in  1689,  and  in  several  other  pam- 
phlets of  that  year.  For  the  distribution  of  the  Irish  forces,  see  the  contemporary  maps 
of  the  siege.  A  catalogue  of  the  regiments  meant,  I  suppose,  to  rival  the  Catalogue  in 
the  Second  Book  of  the  Iliad,  will  be  found  in  the  Londeriad. 

t  Life  of  Admiral  Sir  John  Leake,  by  Stephen  M.  Leake,  Clarencieux  King  at  Arias, 
1750.    Of  this  book  only  fifty  copies  were  printed. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


fleet,  commanded  by  the  Count  of  Chateau  Renaud,  had 
anchored  in  Bantry  Bay,  and  had  put  on  shore  a  large 
quantity  of  military  stores  and  a  supply  of  money.  Her- 
bert, who  had  just  been  sent  to  those  seas  with  an  English 
squadron  for  the  purpose  of  intercepting  the  communica- 
tions between  Britanny  and  Ireland,  learned  where  the 
enemy  lay,  and  sailed  into  the  bay  with  the  intention  of 
giving  battle.  But  the  wind  was  unfavorable  to  him:  his 
force  was  greatly  inferior  to  that  which  was  opposed  to 
him;  and,  after  come  firing,  which  caused  no  serious  loss 
to  either  side,  he  thought  it  prudent  to  stand  out  to  sea, 
while  the  French  retired  into  the  recesses  of  the  harbor. 
He  steered  for  Scilly,  where  he  expected  to  find  reinforce- 
ments; and  Chateau  Renaud,  content  with  the  credit  whicL 
he  had  acquired,  and  afraid  of  losin'^  &iw  ^tayea,  hac 

tened  back  to  Brest^  tyouga  earnestly  entreated  by  Jam.ec 
to  come  aroiii.a  to  Dublin^ 

iioch  sides  claimed  the  victory.  The  Commons  at  West 
m  ister  absurdly  passed  a  vote  of  thanks  to  Herber:, 
James,  not  less  absurdly,  ordered  bonfires  to  be  lighted, 
and  a  Te  Deum  to  be  sung.  But  these  marks  of  joy  by  no 
means  satisfied  Avaux,  whose  national  vanity  was  too 
Stri  i-^  even  for  his  characteristic  prudence  and  politeness. 

H  --^rrplained  that  James  was  so  unjust  and  ungrateful 
as  to  attribute  the  result  of  the  late  action  to  the  reluct- 
ance with  which  the  English  seamen  fought  against  their 
rightful  King  and  their  old  commander,  and  that  His 
Majesty  did  not  seem  to  be  well  pleased  by  being  told  that 
they  were  flying  over  the  ocean  pursued  by  the  triumph- 
ant French.  Dover,  too,  was  a  bad  Frenchman.  He 
seemed  to  take  no  pleasure  in  the  defeat  of  his  country- 
men, and  had  been  heard  to  say  that  the  affair  in  Ban- 
try  Bay  did  not  deserve  to  be  called  a  battle.* 

On  the  day  after  the  Te  Deum  had  been  sung  at  Dublin 
for  this  indecisive  skirmish,  the  Parliament  convoked  by 
Tames  assembled.  The  number  of  temporal  peers  of  Ire- 
land, when  he  arrived  in  that  kingdom,  was  about  a  hun- 
dred. Of  these  only  fourteen  obeyed  his  summons-  Of 
the  fourteen,  ten  were  Roman  Catholics.  By  the  re- 
versing of  old  attainders,  and  by  new  creations,  seventeen 


*  Avaux,  May  8-18,,      ^  '  1689:  London  Gazette,  May  g,-  Life  of  James,  ii.  370; 
'      ^         June  5, 

burchett's  Naval  Transactions;  Commons'  Journals,  May  18,  21.  From  the  Memoirs 
of  Madame  de  la  Fayette  it  aopears  that  this  paltry  affair  was  correctly  appreciated  at 
V^fsaillea, 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY 


more  Lords,  all  Roman  Catholics,  were  introduced  into 
the  Upper  House.  The  Protestant  Bishops  of  Meath, 
Ossory,  Cork,  and  Limerick,  whether  from  a  sincere  con- 
viction that  they  could  not  lawfully  withhold  their  obe- 
dience even  from  a  tyrant,  or  from  a  vain  hope  that  the 
heart  even  of  a  tyrant  might  be  softened  by  their  patience, 
made  their  appearance  in  the  midst  of  their  mortal  ene- 
mies. 

The  House  of  Commons  consisted  almost  exclusively  of 
Irishmen  and  Papists.  With  the  writs  the  returning  offi- 
cers had  received  from  Tyrconnel  letters  naming  the  per- 
sons whom  he  wished  to  see  elected.  The  largest  constit- 
uent bodies  in  the  kingdom  were  at  this  time  very  small. 
For  scarcely  any  but  Roman  Catholics  dared  to  show  their 
faces,  and  the  Roman  Catholic  freeholders  were  then  very 
few,  not  more,  it  is  said,  in  some  counties,  than  ten  01 
twelve.  Even  in  cities  so  considerable  as  Cork,  Limerick, 
and  Galway,  the  number  of  persons  who,  under  the  new 
charters,  were  entitled  to  vote,  did  not  exceed  twenty-four. 
About  two  hundred  and  fifty  members  took  their  seats. 
Of  these  only  six  were  Protestants.*  The  list  of  the  names 
sufficiently  indicates  the  religious  and  political  temper  of 
the  assembly.  Alone  among  the  Irish  parliaments  of  that 
age,  this  parliament  was  filled  with  Dermots  and  Geohe- 
gans,  O'Neils  and  O'Donovans,  Macmahons,  Macnamaras, 
and  Macgillicuddies.  The  lead  was  taken  by  a  few  men 
whose  abilities  had  been  improved  by  the  study  of  the 
law,  or  by  experience  acquired  in  foreign  countries.  The 
Attorney  General,  Sir  Richard  Nagle,  who  represented  the 
county  of  Cork,  was  allowed,  even  by  Protestants,  to  be  an 
acute  and  learned  jurist.  Francis  Plowden,  the  Commis- 
sioner of  Revenue  who  sate  for  Bannow,  and  acted  as  chief 
minister  of  finance,  was  an  Englishman,  and,  as  he  had 
been  a  principal  agent  of  the  Order  of  Jesuits  in  money 
matters,  must  be  supposed  to  have  been  an  excellent  man 
of  business. f  Colonel  Henry  Luttrell,  member  for  the 
county  of  Carlow,  had  served  long  in  France,  and  had 
brought  back  to  his  native  Ireland  a  sharpened  intellect 
and  polished  manners,  a  flattering  tongue,  some  skill  in 
war,  and  much  more  skill  in  intrigue.  His  elder  brother, 
Colonel  Simon  Luttrell,  who  was  member  for  the  county 

*  King.  iii.  la;  Memoirs  of  Ireland  from  the  Restoration,  1716.  Lists  of  both  Houses 
will  be  found  in  King's  Appendix. 

1 1  found  proof  of  Plowden's  connection  with  the  Jesuits  in  a  Treasury  Letter-boQk, 
June  i»,  1689, 


i6o 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


of  Dublin,  and  military  governor  of  the  capital,  had  also 
resided  in  France,  and,  though  inferior  to  Henry  in  parts 
and  activity,  made  a  highly  distinguished  figure  among  tlie 
adherents  of  James.  The  other  member  for  the  county  of 
Dublin  was  Colonel  Patrick  Sarsfield.  This  gallant  oiicer 
was  regarded  by  the  natives  as  one  of  themselves:  for  his 
ancestors  on  the  paternal  side,  though  originally  English,  \ 
were  among  those  early  colonists  who  were  proverbially 
said  to  have  become  more  Irish  than  Irishmen.  His  mother 
was  of  noble  Celtic  blood;  and  he  was  firmly  attached  to 
the  old  religion.  He  had  inherited  an  estate  of  about  two 
thousand  a  year,  and  was  therefore  one  of  the  wealthiest 
Roman  Catholics  in  the  kingdom.  His  knowledge  of 
courts  and  camps  was  such  as  few  of  his  countrymen  pos- 
sessed. He  had  long  borne  a  commission  in  the  English 
Life  Guards,  had  lived  much  about  Whitehall,  and  had 
fought  bravely  under  Monmouth  on  the  Continent,  and 
against  Monmouth  at  Sedgemoor.  He  had,  Avaux  wrote, 
more  personal  influence  than  any  man  in  Ireland,  and  was 
indeed  a  gentlemen  of  eminent  merit,  brave,  upright,  hon- 
orable, careful  of  his  men  in  quarters,  and  certain  to  be 
always  found  at  their  head  in  the  day  of  battle.  His  in- 
trepidity, his  frankness,  his  boundless  good  nature,  his 
stature,  which  far  exceeded  that  of  ordinary  men,  and  the 
strength  which  he  exerted  in  personal  conflict,  gained  for 
him  the  aftectionate  admiration  of  the  populace.  It  is  re- 
markable that  the  Englishry  generally  respected  him  as  a 
Valiant,  skillful,  and  generous  enemy,  and  that,  even  in 
the  most  ribald  farces  which  were  performed  by  mounte- 
banks in  Smithfield,  he  was  always  excepted  from  the  dis- 
graceful imputations  which  it  was  then  the  fashion  to 
throw  on  the  Irish  nation.* 

But  men  like  these  were  rare  in  the  House  of  Commons 
which  had  met  at  Dublin.  It  is  no  reproach  to  the  Irish 
nation,  a  nation  which  has  since  furnished  its  full  propor- 
tion of  eloquent  and  accomplished  senators,  to  say  that,  of 
all  the  parliaments  which  have  met  in  the  British  islands, 
Barebone's  parliament  not  excepted,  the  assembly  convoked 

* ''Sarsfield,"  Avaux  wrote  to  Louvois,  Oct.,11-21,  1689,  "n'est  pas  un  homme  de  la 
naissance  de  mylord  Galloway"  (Galmoy,  I  suppose)  "ny  de  Makarty:  mais  c'est  un 
gentilhomme  distingue  par  son  m^rite.  qui  a  plus  de  credit  dans  ce  royaume  qu'aucun 
homme  que  je  connoisse.  II  a  de  la  valeur,  mais  surtout  de  I'honneur  et  de  la  probity  k 
toute  epreuve  .  .  .  homme  qui  sera  toujours  a  la  tete  de  ses  troupes,  et  qui  en  aura 
grand  soin."  Leslie,  in  his  Answer  to  King,  says  that  the  Irish  Protestants  did  justice 
to  Sarsfield's  integrity  and  honour.  Indeed,  justice  is  done  to  Sarsfiejd  even  in  suph 
scurrilous  pieces  as  the  Royal  Flight. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


161 


by  James  was  the  most  deficient  in  all  the  qualities  which 
a  legislature  should  possess.  The  stern  domination  of  a 
hostile  class  had  blighted  the  faculties  of  the  Irish  gen- 
tleman. If  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  have  lands,  he  had 
generally  passed  his  life  on  them,  shooting,  fishing,  car- 
ousing and  making  love  among  his  vassals.  If  his  estate^ 
had  been  confiscated,  he  had  wandered  about  from  bawn 
to  bawn  and  from  cabin  to  cabin,  levying  small  contribu- 
tions, and  living  at  the  expense  of  other  men.  He  had 
never  sate  in  the  House  of  Commons:  he  had  never  even 
taken  an  active  part  at  an  election:  he  had  never  been  a 
magistrate:  scarcely  ever  had  he  been  on  a  grand  jury. 
He  had  therefore  absolutely  no  experience  of  public  af- 
fairs. The  English  squire  of  that  age,  though  assuredly 
not  a  very  profound  or  enlightened  politician,  was  a  states- 
man and  a  philosopher  when  compared  with  the  Roman 
Catholic  squire  of  Munster  or  Connaught. 

The  parliaments  of  Ireland  had  then  no  fixed  place  of 
assembling.  Indeed  they  met  so  seldom  and  broke  up  so 
speedily  that  it  would  hardly  have  been  worth  while  to 
build  and  furnish  a  palace  for  their  special  use.  It  was  not 
till  the  Hanoverian  dynasty  had  been  long  on  the  throne, 
that  a  senate  house  which  sustains  a  comparison  with  the 
finest  compositions  of  Inigo  Jones  arose  between  the  Col- 
lege and  the  Castle.  In  the  seventeenth  century  there 
stood,  on  the  spot  where  the  portico  and  dome  of  the  Four 
Courts  now  overlook  the  Liffey,  an  ancient  building  which 
had  once  been  a  convent  of  Dominican  friars,  but  had,  since 
the  Reformation,  been  appropriated  to  the  use  of  the  legal 
profession,  and  bore  the  name  of  the  King's  Inns.  There 
accommodation  had  been  provided  for  the  parliament.  On 
the  seventh  of  May,  James,  dressed  in  royal  robes  and 
wearing  a  crown,  took  his  seat  on  the  throne  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  and  ordered  the  Commons  to  be  summoned  to 
the  bar.* 

He  then  expressed  his  gratitude  to  the  natives  of  Ireland 
for  having  adhered  to  his  cause  when  the  people  of  his 
other  kingdoms  had  deserted  him.  His  resolution  to 
abolish  all  religious  disabilities  in  all  his  dominions  he  de- 
clared to  be  unalterable.  He  invited  the  Houses  to  take 
the  Act  of  Settlement  into  consideration,  and  to  redress  the 


*  Journal  of  the  Parliament  in  Ireland,  1689.  The  reader  must  not  imagine  that  this 
Journal  has  an  official  character.  It  is  merely  a  compilation  made  by  a  Protestant  para^ 
phleteer,  and  printed  in  London. 


t62 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANt). 


injuries  of  which  the  old  proprietors  of  the  soil  had  reason 
to  complain.  He  concluded  by  acknowledging  in  warm 
terms  his  obligations  to  the  King  of  France.* 

When  the  royal  speech  had  been  pronounced,  the  Chan- 
cellor directed  the  Commons  to  repair  to  their  chamber 
and  to  elect  a  Speaker.  They  chose  the  Attorney  Gener^ij 
Nagle;  and  the  choice  was  approved  by  the  King.f 

The  Commons  next  passed  resolutions  expressing  warm 
gratitude  both  to  James  and  to  Lewis.  Indeed  it  was 
proposed  to  send  a  deputation  with  an  address  to  Avaux; 
but  the  Speaker  pointed  out  the  gross  impropriety  of  such 
a  step;  and,  on  this  occasion,  his  interference  was  success- 
ful.J  It  was  seldom  however  that  the  House  was  disposed 
to  listen  to  reason.  The  debates  were  all  rant  and  tumult. 
Judge  Daly,  a  Roman  Catholic,  but  an  honest  and  able 
man,  could  not  refrain  from  lamenting  the  indecency  and 
folly  with  which  the  members  of  his  Church  carried  on  the 
work  of  legislation.  Those  gentlemen,  he  said,  were  not  a 
parliament:  they  were  a  mere  rabble:  they  resembled  noth- 
ing  so  much  as  the  mob  of  fishermen  and  market  gardeners, 
who,  at  Naples,  yelled  and  threw  up  their  caps  in  honor  of 
Massaniello.  It  was  painful  to  hear  member  after  member- 
talking  wild  nonsense  about  his  own  losses,  and  clamor- 
ing for  an  estate,  when  the  lives  of  all  and  the  independ- 
ence of  their  common  country  were  in  peril.  These  words 
were  spoken  in  private;  but  some  tale-bearer  repeated  them 
to  the  Commons.  A  violent  storm  broke  forth.  Daly  was 
ordered  to  attend  at  the  bar;  and  there  was  little  doubt 
that  he  would  be  severely  dealt  with.  But,  just  when  he 
was  at  the  door,  one  of  the  members  rushed  in  shouting, 
*^Good  news:  Londonderry  is  taken."  The  whole  House 
rose.  All  the  hats  were  flung  into  the  air.  Three  loud 
huzzas  were  raised.  Every  heart  was  softened  by  the 
happy  tidings.  Nobody  would  hear  of  punishment  at  such 
a  moment.  The  order  for  Daly's  attendance  was  dis- 
charged amidst  cries  of  ^'No  submission:  no  submission: 
we  pardom  him."  In  a  few  hours  it  was  known  that  Lon- 
donderry held  out  as  obstinately  as  ever.  This  transaction, 
in  itself  unimportant,  deserves  to  be  recorded,  as  showing 
how  destitute  that  House  of  Commons  was  of  the  qualities 
which  ought  to  be  found  in  the  great  council  of  a  king- 


*  Life  of  James,  ii.  355.  t  Journal  of  the  Parliament  in  Ireland, 

*  Avaux,  1689. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


163 


dom.  And  this  assembly,  without  experience,  without 
gravity,  and  without  temper,  was  now  to  legislate  on  ques- 
tions  which  would  have  tasked  to  the  utmost  the  capacity 
of  the  greatest  statesmen.* 

One  Act  James  induced  them  to  pass  which  would  have 
been  most  honorable  to  him  and  to  them,  if  there  were 

.  not  abundant  proofs  that  it  was  meant  to  be  a  dead  letter. 

*  It  was  an  Act  purporting  to  gr^nt  entire  liberty  of  con- 
science to  all  Christian  sects.  On  this  occasion  a  procla- 
mation was  put  forth  announcing  in  boastful  language  to 
the  English  people  that  their  rightful  King  had  now  sig- 
nally refuted  those  slanderers  who  had  accused  him  of  af- 
fecting zeal  for  religious  liberty  merely  in  order  to  serve  a 
turn.  If  he  were  at  heart  inclined  to  persecution,  would 
he  not  have  persecuted  the  Irish  Protestants?  He  did  not 
want  power.  He  did  not  want  provocation.  Yet  at  Dub- 
lin, where  the  members  of  his  Church  were  the  majority,  as 
at  Westminster,  where  they  were  a  minority,  he  had  firmly 
adhered  to  the  principles  laid  down  in  his  much  maligned 
Declaration  of  Indulgence,  f  Unfortunately  for  him,  the 
same  wind  which  carried  his  fair  professions  to  England 
carried  thither  also  evidence  that  his  professions  were  irt- 
sincere.  A  single  law,  worthy  of  Turgot  or  of  Franklin, 
seemed  ludicrously  out  of  place  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of 
laws  which  would  have  disgraced  Gardiner  or  Alva. 

A  necessary  preliminary  to  the  vast  work  of  spoliation 
and  slaughter  on  which  the  legislators  of  Dublin  were 
bent,  was  an  Act  annulling  the  authority  which  the  En- 
glish Parliament,  both  as  the  supreme  legislature  and  as 
the  supreme  Court  of  Appeal,  had  hitherto  exercised  over 
Ireland. J  This  Act  was  rapidly  passed;  and  then  followed, 
in  quick  succession,  confiscations  and  proscriptions  on  a 
gigantic  scale.  The  personal  estates  of  absentees  above 
the  age  of  seventeen  years  were  transferred  to  the  King. 
When  lay  property  was  thus  invaded,  it  was  not  likely 
that  the  endowments^  which  had  been,  in  contravention  of 
every  sound  principle,  lavished  on  the  Church  of  the  mi- 
nority, would  be  spared.-   To  reduce  those  endowments, 

*  A  True  Account  of  the  Present  State  of  Ireland,  by  a  Person  that  with  Great  Diffi- 
culty left  Dublin,  1689;  Letter  from  Dublin,  dated  June  12,  1689;  Journal  of  the  Parlia- 
ment in  Ireland. 

t  Life  of  James,  ii.  361,  362,  363.  In  the  Life  it  is  said  that  the  proclamation  was  r-nt 
forth  without  the  privity  of  James,  but  that  he  subsequently  approved  of  it.  See  Vvel- 
wood's  Answer  to  the  Declaration.  i68g. 

%  Light  to  the  Blind;  An  Act  declarincr  that  the  Parliament  of  England  cannot  bind 
Ireland  againstWrivs  of  Error  and  Appeals,  printed  in  London,  1690. 


164 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


without  prejudice  to  existing  interests,  would  have  been  a 
reform  worthy  of  a  good  prince  and  of  a  good  parliament. 
But  no  such  reform  would  satisfy  the  vindictive  bigots  who 
sate  at  the  King's  Inns.  By  one  sweeping  Act  the  greater 
part  of  the  tithe  was  transferred  from  the  Protestant  to 
the  Roman  Catholic  clergy;  and  the  existing  incumbents 
were  left,  without  one  farthing  of  compensation,  to  die  of 
hunger."'^  A  Bill  repealing/he  Act  of  Settlement  and  trans- 
ferring many  thousands  of  square  miles  from  Saxon  to 
Celtic  landlords  w^as  brought  in  and  carried  by  accla- 
mation.f 

Of  legislation  such  as  this  it  is  impossible  to  speak  too 
severely:  but  for  the  legislators  there  are  excuses  which  it 
is  the  duty  of  the  historian  to  notice.  They  acted  unmer- 
cifully, unjustly,  unwisely.  But  it  would  be  absurd  to  ex- 
pect mercy,  justice,  or  wisdom  from  a  class  of  men  first 
abased  by  many  years  of  oppression,  and  then  maddened 
by  the  joy  of  a  sudden  deliverance,  and  armed  with  irresis- 
tible  power.  The  representatives  of  the  Irish  nation  were, 
with  few  exceptions,  rude  and  ignorant.  They  had  lived 
in  a  state  of  constant  irritation.  With  aristocratical  senti- 
ments they  had  been  in  a  servile  position.  With  the  high- 
est pride  of  blood,  they  had  been  exposed  to  daily  affronts, 
such  as  might  well  have  roused  the  choler  of  the  humblest 
plebeian.  In  sight  of  the  fields  and  castles  which  they  re- 
garded as  their  own,  they  had  been  glad  to  be  invited  by  a 
peasant  to  partake  of  his  whey  and  his  potatoes.  Those 
violent  emotions  of  hatred  and  cupidity  which  the  situa- 
tion of  the  native  gentleman  could  scarcely  fail  to  call  forth 
appeared  to  him  under  the  specious  guise  of  patriotism  and 
piety.  For  his  enemies  were  the  enemies  of  his  nation;  and 
the  same  tyranny  which  had  robbed  him  of  his  patrimony  had 
robbed  his  Church  of  vast  wealth  bestowed  on  her  by  the  de- 
votion of  an  earlier  age.  How  was  power  likely  to  be  used 
by  an  uneducated  and  inexperienced  .man,  agitated  by 
strong  desires  and  resentments  which  he  mistook  for 
sacred  duties?  And,  when  two  or  three  hundred  such  men 
were  brought  together  in  one  assemby,  what  was  to  be  ex- 
pected but  that  the  passions  which  each  had  long  nursed 
in  silence  would  be  at  once  matured  into  fearful  vigor  by 
the  influence  of  sympathy? 

*  An  Act  concerning  Appropriate  Tythes  and  other  duties  payable  to  Ecclesiastical 
Dignitaries.    London,  1690. 

t  An  act  for  repealing  the  Acts  of  Settlement  and  Explanation,  and  all  Grants,  Pat-» 
cnts,  and  Certificates  pursuant  to  theni  or  any  of  them.    London,  1690. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY, 


Between  James  and  his  parliament  there  was  little  in 
common,  except  hatred  of  the  Protestant  religion.  He 
was  an  Englishman.  Superstition  had  not  utterly  extin- 
guished all  national  feeling  in  his  mind;  and  he  could  not 
but  be  displeased  by  the  malevolence  with  which  his  Celtic 
supporters  regarded  the  race  from  which  he  sprang.  The 
range  of  his  intellectual  vision  was  small.  Yet  it  was  im- 
possible that,  having  reigned  in  England,  and  looking  con- 
stantly forward  to  the  day  when  he  should  reign  in  Eng- 
land once  more,  he  should  not  take  a  wider  view  of  poli-^ 
tics  than  was  taken  by  men  w^ho  had  no  objects  out  of  Ire- 
land. The  few  Irish  Protestants  who  still  adhered  to  him 
and  the  British  nobles,  both  Protestant  and  Roman  Catho 
Jic,  who  had  followed  him  into  exile,  implored  him  to  r6. 
strain  the  violence  of  the  rapacious  and  vindictive  senate 
which  he  had  convoked.  They  with  peculiar  earnestnes!* 
implored  him  not  to  consent  to  the  repeal  of  the  Act  of 
Settlement.  On  what  security,  they  asked,  could  any  man 
invest  his  money  or  give  a  portion  to  his  children,  if  he 
could  not  rely  on  positive  laws  and  on  the  uninterupted 
possession  of  many  years?  The  military  adventurers 
among  whom  Cromwell  portioned  out  the  soil  might 
perhaps  be  regarded  as  wrong-doers.  But  how  large  a  part 
of  their  estates  had  passed,  by  fair  purchase,  into  other 
hands!  How  much  money  had  proprietors  borrowed  on 
mortgage,  on  statute  merchant,  on  statute  staple!  How 
many  capitalists  had,  trusting  to  legislative  acts  and  to 
royal  promises,  come  over  from  England,  and  bought  land 
in  Ulster  and  Leinster,  without  the  least  misgiving  as  to 
the  title!  What  a  sum  had  those  capitalists  expended,  dur- 
ing a  quarter  of  a  century,  in  building,  draining,  enclosing, 
planting!  The  terms  of  the  compromise  which  Charles 
the  Second  had  sanctioned  might  not  be  in  all  respects 
just.  But  was  one  injustice  to  be  redressed  by  commit- 
ting another  injustice  more  monstrous  still?  And  what 
effect  was  likely  to  be  produced  in  England  by  the  cry  of 
thousands  of  innocent  English  families  whom  an  English 
king  had  doomed  to  ruin?  The  complaints  of  such  a  body 
of  sufferers  might  delay,  might  prevent,  the  restoration  to 
which  all  loyal  subjects  were  eagerly  looking  forward;  and, 
even  if  His  Majesty  should,  in  spite  of  those  complaints,  be 
happily  restored,  he  would  to  the  end  of  his  life  feel  the 
pernicious  effects  of  the  injustice  which  evil  advisers  were 
now  urging  him  to  commit.    He  would  find  that,  in  trying 


i66 


HISTORY   OF  ENGLANP, 


to  quiet  one  set  of  malcontents,  he  had  created  another. 
As  surely  as  he  yielded  to  the  clamor  raised  at  Dublin  for 
a  repeal  of  the  Act  of  Settlement,  he  would,  from  the  day 
on  which  he  returned  to  Westminster,  be  assailed  by  as 
loud  and  pertinacious  a  clamor  for  a  repeal  of  that  repeal. 
He  could  not  but  be  aware  that  no  English  parliament, 
however  loyal,  would  permit  such  laws  as  were  now  pass- 
ing through  the  Irish  parliament  to  stand.  Had  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  take  the  part  of  Ireland  against  the  uni- 
versal sense  of  England?  If  so,  to  what  could  he  look  for- 
ward but  another  banishment  and  another  deposition?  Or 
would  he,  when  he  had  recovered  the  greater  kingdom,  re- 
voke the  boons  by  which,  in  his  distress,  he  had  purchased 
the  help  of  the  smaller?  It  might  seem  an  insult  to  him 
even  to  suggest  that  he  could  harbor  the  thought  of  such 
unprincely,  of  such  unmanly,  perfidy.  Yet  v/hat  other 
course  would  be  left  to  him?  And  was  it  not  better  for  him 
to  refuse  unreasonable  concessions  now  than  to  retract 
those  concessions  hereafter  in  a  manner  which  must  bring 
on  him  reproaches  insupportable  to  a  noble  mind?  His 
situation  was  doubtless  embarrassing.  Yet  in  this  case,  as 
in  other  cases,  it  would  be  found  that  the  path  of  justice 
was  the  path  of  wisdom.^ 

Though  James  had,  in  his  speech  at  the  opening  of  the 
session,  declared  against  the  Act  of  Settlement,  he  felt  that 
these  arguments  were  unanswerable.  He  held  several  con- 
ferences with  the  leading  members  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and  earnestly  recommended  moderation.  But  his 
exhortations  irritated  the  passions  which  he  washed  to 
allay.  Many  of  the  native  gentry  held  high  and  violent 
language.  It  was  impudent,  they  said,  to  talk  about  the 
rights  of  purchasers.  How  could  right  spring  out  of 
wrong?  People  who  chose  to  buy  property  acquired  by  in- 
justice must  take  the  consequences  of  their  folly  and  cupid- 
ity. It  was  clear  that  the  Lower  House  was  altogether 
impracticable.  James  had,  four  years  before,  refused  to 
make  the  smallest  concession  to  the  most  obsequious  par- 
liament that  has  ever  sat  in  England;  and  it  might  have 
been  expected  that  the  obstinacy,  which  he  had  never 
wanted  when  it  was  a  vice,  would  not  have  failed  him  now 
when  it  would  have  been  a  virtue.  During  a  short  time  he 
seemed  determined  to  act  justly.    He  even  talked  of  dis- 


*  See  the  paper  delivered  to  James  by  Chief  Justice  Keating,  and  the  speech  of  th^ 
fcishop  of  Meath.    Both  are  in  King's  appendix,    Life  of  James  ii,  357-361, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


167 


solving  the  Parliament.  The  chiefs  of  the  old  Celtic  fami- 
lies on  the  other  hand,  said  publicly  that,  if  he  did  not 
give  them  back  their  inheritance,  they  would  not  fight  for 
his.  His  very  soldiers  railed  on  him  in  the  streets  of  Dub- 
lin. At  length  he  determined  to  go  down  himself  to  the 
House  of  Peers,  not  in  his  robes  and  crown,  but  in  the 
garb  in  which  he  had  been  used  to  attend  debates  at  West- 
minster, and  personally  to  solicit  the  Lords  to  put  some 
check  on  the  violence  of  the  Commons.  But  just  as  he 
was  getting  into  his  coach  for  this  purpose  he  was  stopped 
by  Avaux.'  Avaux  was  as  zealous  as  any  Irishman  for  the 
bills  which  the  Commons  were  urging  forward.  It  was 
enough  for  him  that  those  bills  seemed  likely  to  make  the 
enmity  between  England  and  Ireland  irreconcileable.  His 
remonstrances  induced  James  to  abstain  from  openly  op- 
posing the  repeal  of  the  Act  of  Settlement.  Still  the  un- 
fortunate Prince  continued  to  cherish  some  faint  hope  that 
the  law  for  which  the  Commons  were  so  zealous  would  be 
rejected,  or  at  least  modified,  by  the  Peers.  Lord  Granard, 
one  of  the  few  Protestant  noblemen  who  sate  in  that  Par- 
liament, exerted  himself  strenuously  on  the  side  of  public 
faith  and  sound  policy.  The  King  sent  him  a  message  of 
thanks.  "We  Protestants,"  said  Granard  to  Powis,  who 
brought  the  message,  "  are  few  in  number.  We  can  do 
little.  His  Majesty  should  try  his  influence  with  the 
Roman  Catholics."  "  His  Majesty,"  answered  Powis  with 
an  oath,  dares  not  say  what  bethinks."  A  few  days 
later  James  met  Granard  riding  towards  the  parliament 
house.  "Where  are  you  going,  my  Lord?"  said  the  King. 
"  To  enter  my  protest,  sir,"  answered  Granard,  "against 
the  repeal  of  the  Act  of  Settlement."  "You  are  right," 
said  the  King:  "  but  I  am  fallen  into  the  hands  of  people 
who  will  ram  that  and  much  more  down  my  throat."* 

James  yielded  to  the  will  of  the  Commons:  but  the  un- 
favorable impression  which  his  short  and  feeble  resistance 
had  made  upon  them  was  not  to  be  removed  by  his  sub- 
mission. They  regarded  him  with  profound  distrust:  they 
considered  him  as  at  heart  an  Englishman;  and  not  a  day 
passed  without  some  indication  of  this  feeling.  They 
were  in  no  haste  to  grant  him  a  supply.  One  party  among 
them  planned  an  address  urging  him  to  dismiss  Melfort  as 
an  enemy  of  their  nation.    Another  party  drew  up  a  bill 

Leslie's  Answer  to  King;  Avaux,  ^j^^^^^'  i6Sg;  Life  of  James,  ii.  358, 


i68 


HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


for  deposing  all  the  Protestant  blsliops,  even  .the  four  who 
were  then  actually  sitting  in  Parliament.  It  was  not  with- 
out difficulty  that  Avaux  and  Tyrconnel,  whose  influence 
in  the  Lower  House  far  exceeded  the  King's,  could  re- 
strain the  zeal  of  the  majority.* 

It  is  remarkable  that,  wiiile  the  King  was  losing  the  con- 
fidence and  good  will  of  the  Irish  Commons  by  faintly  de- 
fending against  them,  in  one  quarter,  the  institution  of 
property,  he  was  himself,  in  another  quarter,  attacking 
that  institution  with  a  violence,  if  possible,  more  reckless 
than  theirs.  He  soon  found  that  no  money  came  into  his 
exchequer.  The  cause  was  sufficiently  obvious.  Trade 
was  at  an  end.  Floating  capital  had  been  withdrawn  in 
great  masses  from  the  island.  Of  the  fixed  capital  snuch 
had  been  destroyed,  and  the  rest  was  lying  idle.  Thous- 
ands of  those  Protestants  who  were  the  most  industrious 
and  intelligent  part  of  the  population  had  emigrated  to 
England.  Thousands  had  taken  refuge  in  the  places 
which  still  held  out  for  William  and  Mary.  Of  the  Roman 
Catholic  peasantry  who  were  in  the  vigor  of  life  the  major- 
ity had  enlisted  in  the  army  or  had  joined  gangs  of  plun- 
derers. The  poverty  of  the  treasury  was  the  necessary  effect 
of  the  poverty  of  the  country:  public  prosperity  could  be 
restored  only  by  the  restoration  of  private  prosperity:  and 
private  prosperity  could  be  restored  only  by  years  of  peace 
and  security.  James  was  absurd  enough  to  imagine  that 
there  was  a  more  speedy  and  efficacious  remedy.  He 
could,  he  conceived,  at  once  extricate  himself  from  his 
financial  difficulties  by  the  simple  process  of  calling  a 
farthing  a  shilling.  The  right  of  coining  was  undoubtedly 
a  flower  of  the  prerogative:  and,  in  his  view,  the  right  of 
coining  included  the  right  of  debasing  the  coin.  Pots, 
pans,  knockers  of  doors,  pieces  of  ordnance  which  had  long 
been  past  use,  were  carried  to  the  mint.  In  a  short  time 
lumps  of  base  metal,  nominally  worth  near  a  million 
sterling,  intrinsically  worth  about  a  sixtieth  part  of  that 
sum,  were  in  circulation.  A  royal  edict  declared  these 
pieces  to  be  legal  tender  in  all  cases  whatever.  A  mortgage 
for  a  thousand  pounds  was  cleared  off  by  a  bag  of  counters 
made  out  of  old  kettles.  The  creditors  who  complained 
to  the  Court  of  Chancery  were  told  by  Fitton  to  take  their 


*  Avaux,  1689,  and  4^"t^'-     l^he  author  of  Light  to  the  Blind  strongly 

'  June  7  July 
condemns  the  indulgence  shov/n  to  the  rrotestant  Bishops  who  adhered  to  James. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


169 


money  and  be  gone.  But  of  all  classes  the  tradesmen  of 
Dublin,  who  were  generally  Protestants,  were  the  greatest 
losers.  At  first,  of  course,  they  raised  their  demands:  but 
the  magistrates  of  the  city  took  on  themselves  to  meet  this 
heretical  machination  by  putting  forth  a  tariff  regulating 
prices.  Any  man  who  belonged  to  the  caste  now  domi- 
nant might  walk  into  a  shop,  lay  on  the  counter  a  bit  of 
brass  worth  three  pence,  and  carry  off  goods  to  the  value 
of  half  a  guinea.  Legal  redress  was  out  of  the  questiox. 
Indeed  the  sufferers  thought  themselves  happy  if,  by  the 
sacrifice  of  their  stock  in  trade,  they  could  redeem 
their  limbs  and  their  lives.  There  was  not  a  baker's  shop 
in  the  city  round  which  twenty  or  thirty  soldiers  were  not 
constantly  prowling.  Some  persons  who  refused  the  base 
money  were  arrested  by  troopers  and  carried  before  the 
provost  marshal,  who  curssd  them,  swore  at  them,  locked 
them  up  in  dark  cells,  and  by  threatening  to  hang  them  at 
their  own  doors,  soon  overcame  their  resistance.  Of  all 
the  plagues  of  that  time  none  made  a  deeper  or  more  last- 
ing impression  on  the  minds  of  the  Protestants  of  Dublin 
than  the  plague  of  the  brass  money.*  To  the  recollection 
of  the  confusion  and  misery  which  had  been  produced  by 
James's  coin  must  be  in  part  ascribed  the  strenuous  oppo- 
sition which,  thirty-five  years  later,  large  classes,  firmly  at- 
tached to  the  House  of  Hanover,  offered  to  the  govern- 
ment of  George  the  First  in  the  affair  of  Wood's  patent. 

There  can  be  no  question  that  James,  in  thus  altering, 
by  his  own  authority,  the  terms  of  all  the  contracts  in  the 
kingdom,  assumed  a  power  which  belonged  only  to  the 
whole  legislature.  Yet  the  Commons  did  not  remonstrate. 
There  was  no  power,  however  unconstitutional,  which  they 
were  not  willing  to  concede  to  him,  as  long  as  he  used  it 
to  crush  and  plunder  the  English  population.  On  the 
other  hand,  they  respected  no  prerogative,  however  an- 
cient, however  legitimate,  however  salutary,  if  they  appre- 
hended that  he  might  use  it  to  protect  the  race  which  they 
abhorred.  They  were  not  satisfied  till  they  had  extorted 
his  reluctant  consent  to  a  portentous  law,  a  law  without  a 
parallel  in  the  history  of  civilized  countries,  the  great  Act 
of  Attainder. 

A  list  was  framed  containing  between  two  and  three 

*  King,  iii.  11;  Brief  Memoirs  by  Haynes,  Assay  Master  of  the  Mint,  among  the 
Lansdowne  MSS.  at  the  British  Museum,  No.  801.  I  have  seen  several  specimens  of 
this  coin.    The  execution  is  surprisingly  good,  all  circumstances  considered. 


170 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


thousand  names.  At  the  top  was  half  the  peerage  of  lre= 
land.  Then  came  baronets,  knights,  clergymen,  squires, 
merchants,  yeomen,  artisans,  women,  children.  No  inves- 
tigation was  made.  Any  member  who  wished  to  rid  him- 
self of  a  creditor,  a  rival,  a  private  enemy,  gave  in  the 
name  to  the  clerk  at  the  table,  and  it  was  generally  in- 
serted without  discussion.  The  only  debate  of  which  any 
account  has  come  down  to  us  related  to  the  Earl  of  Straf- 
ford. He  had  friends  in  the  House  who  ventured  to 
offer  something  in  his  favor.  But  a  few  words  from  Simon 
Luttrell  settled  the  question.  I  have,"  he  said,  ^'heard 
the  King  say  some  hard  things  of  that  Lord."  This  was 
thought  sufficient,  and  the  name  of  Strafford  stands  fifth  in 
the  long  table  of  the  proscribed."* 

Days  were  fixed  before  which  those  whose  names  were 
on  the  list  were  required  to,  surrender  themselves  to  such 
justice  as  was  then  administered  to  English  Protestants  in 
Dublin.  If  a  proscribed  person  was  in  Ireland,  he  must 
surrender  himself  by  the  tenth  of  August.  If  he  had  left 
Ireland  since  the  fifth  of  November,  1688,  he  must  surren- 
der himself  by  the  first  of  September.  If  he  had  left  Ire- 
land before  the  fifth  of  November,  1688,  he  must  surrender 
himself  by  the  first  of  October.  If  he  failed  to  appear  by 
the  appointed  day,  he  was  to  be  hanged,  drawn,  and  quar- 
tered without  a  trial,  and  his  property  was  to  be  confiscated. 
It  might  be  physically  impossible  for  him  to  deliver  him- 
self up  within  the  time  fixed  by  the  Act.  He  might  be 
bedridden.  He  might  be  in  the  West  Indies.  He  might 
be  in  prison.  Indeed  there  notoriously  were  such  cases. 
Among  the  attained  Lords  was  Mountjoy.  He  had  been 
induced,  by  the  villainy  of  Tyrconnel,  to  trust  himself  at 
Saint  Germains:  he  had  been  tlirown  into  the  Bastile: 
he  was  still  lying  there;  and  the  Irish  Parliam.ent  was  not 
ashamed  to  enact  that,  unless  he  could,  within  a  few  weeks, 
make  his  escape  from  his  cell,  and  present  himself  at  Dub- 
lin, he  should  be  put  to  death. f 

As  it  was  not  even  pretended  that  there  had  been  any 
inquiry  into  the  guilt  of  those  who  were  thus  proscribed, 
as  not  a  single  one  among  them  had  been  heard  in  his  own 
defence,  and  as  it  was  certain  that  it  would  be  physically  im- 
possible for  many  of  them  to  surrender  themselves  in  time, 


*  King,  iii.  12. 

t  An  Act  for  the  Attainder  of  divers  Rebels  and  for  preserving  the  Interest  of  loyal 
Subjects,  London,  169a 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


171 


it  was  clear  that  nothing  but  a  large  exercise  ot  the  royal 
prerogative  of  mercy  could  prevent  the  perpetration  of 
iniquities  so  horrible  that  no  precedent  could  be  found  for 
them  even  in  the  lamentable  history  of  the  troubles  of  Ire- 
land. The  Commons  therefore  determined  that  the  royal 
prerogative  of  mercy  should  be  limited.  Several  regula- 
tions were  devised  for  the  purpose  of  making  the  passing 
of  pardons  difficult  and  costly;  and  finally  it  was  enacted 
that  every  pardon  granted  by  His  Majesty,  after  the  end 
of  November,  1689,  to  any  of  the  many  hundreds  of  per- 
sons who  had  been  sentenced  to  death  without  a  trial, 
should  be  absolutely  void  and  of  none  effect.  Sir  Richard 
Nagle  came  in  state  to  the  bar  of  the  Lords  and  presented 
the  bill  with  a  speech  worthy  of  the  occasion.  Many  of 
the  persons  here  attainted,"  said  he,  have  been  proved 
traitors  by  such  evidence  as  satisfies  us.  As  to  the  rest 
we  have  followed  common  fame."* 

With  such  reckless  barbarity  was  the  list  framed  that 
fanatical  royalists,  who  were,  at  that  very  time,  hazarding 
their  property,  their  liberty,  their  lives,  in  the  cause  of 
James,  were  not  secure  from  proscription.  The  most 
learned  man  of  whom  the  Jacobite  party  could  boast  was 
Henry  Dodwell,  Camdenian  Professor  in  the  University  of 
Oxford.  In  the  cause  of  hereditary  monarchy  he  shrank 
from  no  sacrifice  and  from  no  danger.  It  was  about  him 
that  William  uttered  those  memorable  words:  He  has 
set  his  heart  on  being  a  martyr;  and  I  have  set  mine  on 
disappointing  him."  But  James  was  more  cruel  to  friends 
than  William  to  foes.  Dodwell  was  a  Protestant:  he  had 
some  property  in  Connaught:  these  crimes  were  sufficient; 
and  he  was  set  down  in  the  long  roll  of  those  who  were 
doomed  to  the  gallows  and  the  quartermg  block. f 

That  James  would  give  his  assent  to  a  bill  which  took 
from  him  the  power  of  pardoning,  seemed  to  many  persons 
impossible.  He  had,  four  years  before,  quarrelled  with 
the  most  loyal  of  parliaments  rather  than  cede  a  preroga- 
.  live  which  did  not  belong  to  him.  It  might,  therefore,  well 
be  expected  that  he  would  now  have  struggled  hard  to 
retain  a  precious  prerogative  which  had  been  enjoyed  by 
his  predecessors  ever  since  the  origin  of  the  monarchy,  and 

*  King,  iii.  13. 

i  His  name  is  in  the  first  column  of  page  30,  in  that  edition  of  the  List  which  was  li- 
censed March  26,  1690.  I  should  have  thought  that  the -proscribed  person  must  have 
been  some  other  Henry  Dodwell.  But  Bishop  KenneU's  second  letter  to  the  Bishop  of 
parlisle,  1716,  leaves  np  doubt  about  the  matter, 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


which  even  the  Whigs  allowed  to  be  a  flower  properly  be- 
longing to  the  Crown.  The  stern  look  and  raised  voice 
with  which  he  had  reprimanded  the  Tory  gentlemen, 
who,  in  the  language  of  profound  reverence  and  fervent 
affection,  implored  him  not  co  dispense  with  the  law^s, 
w^ould  now  have  been  in  place.  He  might  also  have  seen 
that  the  right  course  was  the  wise  course.  Had  he,  on  this 
great  occasion,  had  the  spirit  to  declare  that  he  would  not 
shed  the  blood  of  the  innocent,  and  that,  even  as  respected 
the  guilty,  he  w^ould  not  divest  himself  of  the  power  of 
tempering  judgment  with  mercy,  he  would  have  regained 
more  hearts  in  England  than  he  would  have  lost  in  Ireland. 
But  it  w^as  ever  his  fate  to  resist  where  he  should  have 
yielded,  and  to  yield  where  he  should  have  resisted.  The 
most  wicked  of  all  laws  received  his  sanction;  and  it  is  but 
a  very  small  extenuation  of  his  guilt  that  his  sanction  was 
somewhat  reluctantly  given. 

That  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  the  completeness  of 
this  great  crime,  extreme  care  was  taken  to  prevent  the 
persons  who  were  attainted  from  know^ing  that  they 
were  attained,  till  the  day  of  grace  fixed  in  the 
Act  was  passed.  The  roll  of  names  was  not  published, 
but  kept  carefully  locked  up  in  Fitton's  closet.  Some 
Protestants,  who  still  adhered  to  the  cause  of  James,  but 
who  were  anxious  to  know^  whether  any  of  their  friends  or 
relations  had  been  proscribed,  tried  hard  to  obtain  a  sight 
of  the  list:  but  solicitations,  remonstrance,  even  bribery, 
proved  vain.  Not  a  single  copy  got  abroad  till  it  was  too 
late  for  any  of  the  thousands  who  had  been  condemned 
without  a  trial  to  obtain  a  pardon.* 

Towards  the  close  of  July  James  prorogued  the  Houses. 
They  had  sate  more  than  ten  weeks:  and  in  that  space  of 
time  they  had  proved  most  fully  that,  great  as  have  been 
the  evils  which  Protestant  ascendency  has  produced  in  Ire- 
land, the  evils  produced  by  Popish  ascendency  would  have 
been  greater  still.  That  the  colonists  when  they  had  won 
the  victory,  grossly  abused  it,  that  their  legislation  w^as, 
during  many  years,  unjust  and  tyrannical,  is  most  true. 
But  it  is  not  less  true  that  they  never  quite  came  up  to  the 


*  A  list  of  most  of  the  names  of  the  Nobility,  Gentry,  and  Commonalty  of  Enp:land 
and  Ireland  (amongst  whom  are  several  Women  and  Children)  who  are  all,  by  an  Act  of 
a  Pretended  Parliament  assemjjled  in  Dublin,  attainted  of  High  Treason,  1690;  An  Ac- 
count of  the  Transactions  of  the  late  King  James  in  Ireland^  1690;  King,  iii.  13;  Me- 
moirs of  Ireland.  1716. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


atrocious  example  set  by  their  vanquished  enemy  during 
his  short  tenure  of  power. 

Indeed,  while  James  was  loudly  boasting  that  he  had 
passed  an  Act  granting  entire  liberty  of  conscience  to  all 
sects,  a  persecution  as  cruel  as  that  of  Languedoc  was  rag- 
ing through  all  the  provinces  which  owned  his  authority. 
It  was  said  by  those  who  wished  to  find  an  excuse  for  him 
that  almost  all  the  Protestants,  who  still  remained  in  Mun- 
ster,  Connaught,  and  Leinster,  were  his  enemies,  and  that 
it  was  not  as  schismatics,  but  as  rebels  in  heart,  who  wanted 
only  opportunity  to  become  rebels  in  act,  that  he  gave 
them  up  to  be  oppressed  and  despoiled;  and  to  this  excuse 
some  weight  might  have  been  allowed  if  he  had  stren- 
uously exerted  himself  to  protect  those  few  colonists,  who, 
though  firmly  attached  to  the  reformed  religion,  were  still 
true  to  the  doctrines  of  non-resistance  and  of  indefeasible 
hereditary  right.  But  even  these  devoted  royalists 
found  that  their  heresy  was  in  his  view  a  crime  for 
which  no  services  or  sacrifices  would  atone.  Three 
or  four  noblemen,  members  of  the  Anglican  Church, 
who  had  welcomed  him  to  Ireland,  and  had  sate  in  his  par- 
liament, represented  to  him  that,  if  the  rule  which  forbade 
any  Protestant  to  possess  any  weapon  were  strictly  en- 
forced, their  country  houses  would  be  at  the  mercy  of  the 
Rapparees,  and  obtained  from  him  permission  to  keep 
arms  sufficient  for  a  few  servants.  But  Avaux  remon- 
strated. The  indulgence,  he  said,  was  grossly  abused: 
these  Protestant  lords  were  not  to  be  trusted:  they  were 
turning  their  houses  into  fortresses:  His  Majesty  would 
soon  have  reason  to  repent  his  goodness.  These  represen- 
tations prevailed;  and  Roman  Catholic  troops  were  quar- 
tered in  the  suspected  dwellings.^ 

Still  harder  was  the  lot  of  those  Protestant  clergymen 
who  continued  to  cling,  with  desperate  fidelity,  to  the 
cause  of  the  Lord's  Anointed.  Of  all  the  Anglican  divines 
the  one  who  had  the  largest  share  of  James's  good  graces 
seems  to  have  been  Cartwright.  Whether  Cartwright 
could  long  have  continued  to  be  a  favorite  without  being 
an  apostate  may  be  doubted.  He  died  a  few  weeks  after 
his  arrival  in  Ireland;  and  thenceforward  his  Church  had 
no  one  to  plead  her  cause.  Nevertheless  a  few  of  her  pre- 
lates and  priests  continued  for  a  time  to  teach  what  they 


*  Avaux, 


July  27, 
Aug,  6, 


^74 


HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


had  taught  in  the  days  of  the  Exclusion  Bill.  But  it  was 
at  the  peril  of  life  and  limb  that  they  exercised  their  func- 
tions. Every  wearer  of  a  cassock  was  a  mark  for  the  in- 
sults and  outrages  of  soldiers  and  Rapparees.  In  the 
country  his  house  was  robbed  and  he  was  fortunate  if  it 
was  not  burned  over  his  head.  He  was  hunted  through 
the  streets  of  Dublin  with  cries  of  ''There  goes  the  devil  of 
a  heretic."  Sometimes  he  was  knocked  down;  sometimes 
he  w^as  cudgelled."*  The  rulers  of  the  University  of  Dublin^ 
trained  in  the  Anglican  doctrine  of  passive  obedience,  had 
greeted  James  on  his  first  arrival  at  the  Castle,  and  had 
been  assured  by  him  that  he  would  protect  them  in  the  en- 
joyment of  their  property  and  their  privileges.  They  were 
now,  without  any  trial,  without  any  accusation,  thrust  out 
of  their  house.  The  communion  plate  of  the  chapel,  the 
books  in  the  library,  the  very  chairs  and  beds  of  "^the  col- 
legians were  seized.  Part  of  the  building  was  turned  into 
a  magazine,  part  into  a  barrack,  part  into  a  prison.  Si- 
mon Luttrell,  who  was  governor  of  the  capital,  was,  with 
great  difficulty  and  by  powerful  intercession  induced  to 
let  the  ejected  fellows  and  scholars  depart  in  safety.  He 
at  length  permitted  them  to  remain  at  large,  with  this  con- 
dition, that,  on  pain  of  death,  no  three  of  them  should 
meet  together.f  No  Protestant  divine  suffered  more  hard- 
ships than  DoctorWilliam  King,  Dean  of  Saint  Patrick's. 
He  had  been  long  distinguished  by  the  fervor  with  which 
he  had  inculcated  the  duty  of  passively  obeying  even  the 
worst  rulers.  At  a  later  period,  when  he  had  published  a 
defence  of  the  revolution,  and  had  accepted  a  mitre  from 
the  new  government,  he  was  reminded  that  he  had  invoked 
the  divine  vengeance  on  the  usurpers,  and  had  declared 
himself  willing  to  die  a  hundred  deaths  rather  than  desert 
the  cause  of  hereditary  right.  He  had  said  that  the  true 
religion  had  often  been  strengthened  by  persecution,  but 
could  never  be  strengthened  by  rebellion;  that  it  would  be 
a  glorious  day  for  the  Church  of  England  when  a  whole 
cartload  of  her  ministers  should  go  to  the  gallows  for  the 
doctrine  of  non-resistance;  and  that  his  highest  ambition 
was  to  be  one  of  such  a  company.];  It  is  not  improbable 
that,  when  he  spoke  thus,  he  felt  as  he  spoke.  But  his 
principles,  though"  they  might  perhaps  have  held  out  against 
the  severities  and  the  promises  of  William,  were  not  proof 

*  King's  SUte  of  the  Protestants  in  Ireland,  iii,  19.  f  Ibid,  iii.  15. 

$  Leslie's  Answer  to  Kin^. 


William  and  mar  v. 


175 


against  the  ingratitude,  of  James.  Human  nature  at  last 
asserted  its  rights.  After  King  had  been  repeatedly  im- 
prisoned by  the  government  to  which  he  was  devotedly  at- 
tached, after  he  had  been  insulted  and  threatened  in  his 
own  choir  by  the  soldiers,  after  he  had  been  interdicted 
from  burying  in  his  own  churchyard,  and  from  preaching 
in  his  own  pulpit,  after  he  had  narrowly  escaped  with  life 
from  a  musket-shot  fired  at  him  in  the  street,  he  began  to 
think  the  Whig  theory  of  government  less  unreasonable 
and  unchristian  than  it  had  once  appeared  to  him,  and  per- 
suaded himself  that  the  oppressed  Church  might  lawfully 
accept  deliverance,  if  God  should  be  pleased,  by  whatever 
means,  to  send  it  to  her. 

In  no  long  time  it  appeared  that  James  would  have  done 
well  to  hearken  to  those  counsellors  who  had  told  him  that 
the  acts  by  which  he  was  trying  to  make  himself  popular 
in  one  of  his  three  kingdoms,  would  make  him  odious  in 
the  other.  It  was  in  some  sense  fortunate  for  England 
that  after  he  had  cea&ed  to  reign  here,  ^e  continued  during 
more  than  a  year  to  reign  in  Ireland.  The  revolution  had 
been  followed  by  a  reaction  of  public  feeling  in  his  favor. 
That  reaction,  if  it  had  been  suffered  to  proceed  uninter- 
rupted, might  perhaps  hot  have  ceased  till  he  was  again 
King:  but  it  was  violentl}^  interrupted  by  himself.  He 
would  not  suffer  his  people  to  forget:  he  would  not  suffer 
them  to  hope;  while  they  were  trying  to  find  excuses  for 
his  past  errors,  and  to  persuade  themselves  that  he  would 
not  repeat  those  errors,  he  forced  upon  them,,  in  their  own 
despite,  the  conviction  that  he  was  incorrigible,  that  the 
sharpest  discipline  of  adversity  had  taught  him  nothing, 
and  that,  if  they  were  weak  enough  to  recall  him,  they 
would  soon  have  to  depose  him  again.  It  was  in  vain  that 
the  Jacobites  put  forth  pamphlets  about  the  cruelty  with 
which  he  had  been  treated  by  those  who  were  nearest  to 
him  in  blood,  about  the  imperious  temper  and  uncourteous 
manners  of  William,  about  the  favor  shown  to  the  Dutch, 
about  the  heavy  taxes,  about  the  suspension  of  the  Habeas 
Corpus  Act,  about  the  dangers  which  threatened  the 
Church  from  the  enmity  of  Puritans  and  Latitudinarians. 
James  refuted  these  pamphlets  far  more  effectually  than 
all  the  ablest  and  most  eloquent  Whig  writers  united  could 
have  done.  Every  week  came  the  news  that  he  had  passed 
some  new  Act  for  robbing  or  murdering  Protestants. 
Every  colonist  who  succeeded  in  stealing  across  the  SQ8i, 


i70 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANB. 


from  Leinster  to  Holyhead  or  Bristol,  brought  fearful  re- 
ports of  the  tyranny  under  which  his  brethren  groaned. 
What  impression  these  reports  made  on  the  Protestants  of 
our  island  may  be  easily  inferred  from  the  fact  that  they 
moved  the  indignation  of  Ronquillo,  a  Spaniard  and  a 
bigoted  member  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  He  informed  his 
Court  that,  though  the  English  laws  against  Popery  might 
seem  severe,  they  were  so  much  mitigated  by  the  prudence 
and  humanity  of  the  government,  that  they  caused  no  an- 
noyance to  quiet  people;  and  he  took  upon  himself  to  as- 
sure the  Holy  See  that  what  a  Roman  Catholic  suffered  in 
London  was  nothing  when  compared  with  what  a  Pro- 
testant suffered  in  Ireland.* 

The  fugitive  Englishry  found  in  England  warm  sympa- 
thy and  munificent  relief.  Many  were  received  into  the 
houses  of  friends  and  kinsmen.  Many  were  indebted  for 
the  means  of  subsistance  to  the  liberality  of  strangers. 
Among  those  who  bore  a  part  in  this  work  of  mercy,  none 
contributed  more  largely  or  less  ostentatiously  than  the 
Queen.  The  House  of  Commons  placed  at  the  King's  dis- 
posal fifteen  thousand  pounds  for  the  relief  of  those  refu- 
gees whose  wants  were  most  pressing,  and  requested  him 
to  give  commissions  in  the  army  to  those  who  were  quali- 
fied for  military  employment. f  An  Act  was  also  passed 
enabling  beneficed  clergymen  who  had  fled  from  Ireland 
to  hold  preferment  in  England. J  Yet  the  interest  which 
the  nation  felt  in  these  unfortunate  guests  was  languid  when 
compared  with  the  interest  excited  by  that  portion  of  the 
Saxon  colony  which  still  maintained  in  Ulster  a  desperate 
conflict  against  overwhelming  odds.  On  this  subject 
scarcely  one  dissentient  voice  w^as  to  be  heard  in  our  is- 
land. Whigs,  Tories,  nay  even  the  Jacobites  in  whom 
Jacobitism  had  not  extinguished  every  patriotic  sentiment, 
gloried  in  the  glory  of  Enniskillen  and  Londonderry.  The 
House  of  Commons  was  all  of  one  mind.  This  is  no  time 
to  be  counting  cost,"  said  honest  Birch,  who  well  remem- 
bered the  way  in  which  Oliver  had  made  war  on  the  Irish. 
"Are  those  brave  fellows  in  Londonderry  to  be  deserted? 
If  we  lose  them  will  not  all  the  world  cry  shame  upon  us? 
A  boom  across  the  river!    Why  have  we  not  cut  the  boom  in 

*  "En  comparazion  de  lo  que  se  hace  in  Irlandacon  los  Protestantes,  es  nada,'* 
■  ^^y^^'  1689;  ''Para  que  vea  Su  Santitad  que  aqui  estan  los  Catolicos  mas  benigna. 
mente  tratados  que  los  Protestantes  in  Irlanda."    June  19-29. 

t  Commons'  Journals,  June  15,  1689.  t  Stat,  i  W.  &  M.  sess.,  c.  39. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


177 


pieces?  Are  our  brethren  to  perish  almost  in  sight  of  Eng- 
land, within  a  few  hours  voyage  of  our  shores?  "*  Howe, 
the  most  veherrient  inan  of  one  party,  declared  that  the 
hearts  of  the  people  were  set  on  Ireland.  Seymour,  the 
leader  of  the  other  party,  declared  that,  though  he  had  not 
taken  part  in  setting  up  the  new  government,  he  should 
cordially  support  it  in  all  that  might  be  necessary  for  the  pre- 
servation of  Ireland. f  The  Commons  appointed  a  committee 
to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  delays  and  miscarriages  which 
had  been  all  but  fatal  to  the  Englishry  of  Ulster.  The  officers 
to  whose  treachery  or  cov^ardice  the  public  ascribed  the 
calamities  of  Londonderry  were  put  under  arrest.  Lundy 
was  sent  to  the  Tower,  Cunningham  to  the  Gate  House, 
The  agitation  of  the  public  mind  was  in  some  degree 
calmed  by  the  announcement  that,  before  the  end  jf  sum- 
mer, an  army  powerful  enough  to  re-establish  the  English 
ascendency  in  Ireland  would  be  sent  across  Saint  George's 
Channel,  and  that  Schomberg  would  be  the  ger.eral.  In 
the  meantime  an  expedition  which  was  thought  to  be  suf- 
ficient for  the  relief  of  Londonderry  was  despatched  from 
Liverpool  under  the  command  of  Kirke.  The  dogged  obsti- 
nacy with  which  this  man  had,  in  spite  of  royal  solicita- 
tions, ^adhered  to  his  religion,  and  the  part  which  he  had 
taken  in  the  Revolution,  had  perhaps  entitled  him  to  an 
amnesty  for  past  crimes.  But  it  is  difficult  to  understand 
why  the  government  should  have  selected  for  a  post  of 
the  highest  importance,  an  officer  who  was  generally  and 
justly  hated,  who  had  never  shown  eminent  talents  for  war, 
and  who,  both  in  Africa  and  in  England,  had  notoriously 
tolerated  among  his  soldiers  a  licentiousness,  not  only 
shocking  to  humanity,  but  also  incompatible  with  disci- 
pline. 

On  the  sixteenth  of  May,  Kirke's  troops  embarked:  on 
the  twenty-second  they  sailed:  but  contrary  winds  made 
the  passage  slow,  and  forced  the  armament  to  stop  long  at 
the  Isle  of  Man.  Meanwhile  the  Protestants  of  Ulster  were 
defending  themselves  with  stubborn  courage  against  a  great 
superiority  of  force.  The  Enniskilleners  had  never  ceased 
to  wage  a  vigorous  partisan  war  against  the  native  popu- 
lation. Early  in  May  they  marched  to  encounter  a  large 
body  of  troops  from  Connaught,  who  had  made  an  inroad 
into  Donegal.  The  Irish  were  speedily  routed,  and  fled  to 
Sligo  with  the  loss  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  men  killed  and 

*  Grey's  Debates,  June  19,  1689-  t  Grey's  Debates,  June  22, 1689, 


178 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


sixty  taken.  Two  small  pieces  of  artillery  and  several 
horses  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  conquerors.  Elated  by 
this  success,  the  Enniskilleners  soon  invaded  the  county  of 
Cavan,  drove  before  them  fifteen  hundred  of  James's  troops, 
took  and  destroyed  the  castle  of  Ballincarrig,  reputed  the 
strongest  in  that  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  carried  off  the 
pikes  and  muskets  of  the  garrison.  The  next  incursion 
was  into  Meath.  Three  thousand  oxen  and  two  thousand 
sheep  were  swept  away  and  brought  safe  to  the  little  is- 
land in  Lough  Erne.  These  daring  exploits  spread  terror 
even  to  the  gates  of  Dublin.  Colonel  Hugh  Sutherland 
was  ordered  to  march  against  Enniskillen  with  a  regiment 
of  dragoons  and  two  regiments  of  foot.  He  carried  with 
him  arms  for  the  native  peasantry,  and  many  repaired  to 
his  standard.  The  Enniskilleners  did  not  wait  till  he  came 
into  their  neighborhood,  but  advanced  to  encounter  him. 
He  declined  an  action,  and  retreated,  leaving  his  stores  at 
Belturbet  under  the  care  of  a  detachment  of  three  hun- 
dred soldiers.  The  Protestants  attacked  Belturbet  with 
vigor,  made  their  way  into  a  lofty  house  which  overlooked 
the  town,  and  thence  opened  such  a  fire  that  in  two  hours 
the  garrison  surrendered.  Seven  hundred  muskets,  a  great 
quantity  of  powder,  many  horses,  many  sacks  of  biscuits, 
many  barrels  of  meal,  were  taken,  and  were  sent  to  Ennis- 
killen. The  boats  which  brought  these  precious  spoils 
were  joyfully  welcomed.  The  fear  of  hunger  was  removed. 
While  the  aboriginal  population  had,  in  many  counties, 
altogether  neglected  the  cultivation  of  the  earth,  in  the 
expectation,  it  should  seem,  that  marauding  would  prove 
an  inexhaustible  resource,  the  colonists,  true  to  the  provi- 
dent and  industrious  character  of  their  race,  had,  in  the 
midst  of  war,  not  omitted  carefully  to  till  the  soil  in  the 
neighborhood  of  their  strongholds.  The  harvest  was  now 
not  far  remote;  and,  till  the  harvest,  the  food  taken  from 
the  enemy  would  be  amply  sufficient.* 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  success  and  plenty,  the  Enniskil- 
leners were  tortured  by  a  cruel  anxiety  for  Londonderry. 
They  were  bound  to  the  defenders  of  that  city,  not  only 
by  religious  and  national  sympathy,  but  by  common  in- 
terest For  there  could  be  no  doubt  that,  if  Londonderry 
fell,  the  whole  Irish  army  would  instantly  march  in  irre- 


*Hamilton'.s  True  Relation;  Mac  Cormiek's  Further  Account.  Of  the  island  generally, 
Avaux  says,  '"On  n'attend  ncn  de  ct  tte  rec(.lte  cy,  les  paysans  ayant  presc^ue  tous  pris 
les  armes."— Letter  to  Louvois,  March  19-29,  1689. 


WILTJAM  ANP  MARV. 


179 


sistible  force  upon  Lough  Erne.  Yet  what  could  be  done? 
Some  brave  men  were  for  making  a  desperate  attempt  to 
relieve  the  besieged  city;  but  the  odds  were  too  great.  De- 
tachments, however,  were  sent  which  infested  the  rear  of 
the  blockading  army,  cut  off  supplies,  and,  on  one  occasion, 
carried  away  the  horses  of  three  entire  troops  of  cavalry."* 
Still  the  line  of  posts  which  surrounded  Londonderry  by 
land  remained  unbroken.  The  river  was  still  strictly 
closed  and  guarded.  Within  the  walls  the  distress  had  be-* 
come  extreme.  So  early  as  the  eighth  of  June  horseflesh 
was  almost  the  only  meat  which  could  be  purchased;  and 
of  horseflesh  the  supply  was  scanty.  It  was  necessary  to 
make  up  the  deficiency  with  tallow;  and  even  tallow  was 
doled  out  with  a  parsimonious  hand. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  June  a  gleam  of  hope  appeared.  The 
sentinels  on  the  top  of  the  cathedral  saw  sails  nine  miles 
off  in  the  bay  of  Lough  Foyle.  Thirty  vessels  of  different 
sizes  were  counted.  Signals  were  made  from  the  steeples 
and  returned  from  the  mastheads,  but  were  imperfectly 
understood  on  both  sides.  At  last  a  messenger  from  the 
fleet  eluded  the  Irish  sentinels,  dived  under  the  boom,  and 
informed  the  garrison  that  Kirke  had  arrived  from  Eng- 
land with  troops,  arms,  ammunition,  and  provisions,  to  re- 
lieve the  city.f 

In  Londonderry  expectation  was  at  the  height:  but  a 
few  hours  of  feverish  joy  were  followed  by  weeks  of  mis- 
ery. Kirke  thought  it  unsafe  to  make  any  attempt,  either 
by  land  or  by  water,  on  the  lines  of  the  besiegers,  and  re- 
tired to  the  entrance  of  Lough  Foyle,  where,  during  sev- 
eral weeks,  he  lay  inactive. 

And  now  the  pressure  of  famine  became  every  day  more 
severe.  A  strict  search  was  made  in  all  the  recesses  of  all 
the  houses  of  the  city;  and  some  provisions,  which  had 
been  concealed  in  cellars  by  people  who  had  since  died  or 
made  their  escape,  were  discovered  and  carried  to  the 
magazines.  The  stock  of  cannon  balls  was  almost  ex- 
hausted; and  their  place  was  supplied  by  brickbats  coated 
with  lead.  Pestilence  began,  as  usual,  to  make  its  appear- 
ance in  the  train  of  hunger.  Fifteen  officers  died  of  fever 
in  one  day.  The  governor,  Baker,  was  among  those  who 
sank  under  the  disease.  His  place  was  supplied  by  Col- 
onel John  Mitchelburne.J 


^Hamilton's  True  Relation. 

t  Walker;  Mackenzie. 


t  Walker. 


iBo  MiSTORY  OF  ENGLAND* 

Meanwhile  it  was  know^n  at  Dublin  that  Kirke  and  his 
squadron  were  on  the  coast  of  Ulster.  The  alarm  was 
great  at  the  Castle.  Even  before  this  news  arrived,  Avaux 
had  given  it  as  his  opinion  that  Richard  Hamilton  was  un- 
equal to  the  difficulties  of  the  situation.  It  had  therefore 
been  resolved  that  Rosen  should  take  the  chief  command. 
Fie  was  now  sent  down  with  all  speed.* 

On  the  nineteenth  of  June  he  arrived  at  the  headquarters 
of  the  besieging  army.  At  first  he  attempted  to  under- 
mine the  walls;  but  his  plan  was  discovered;  and  he  was 
compelled  to  abandon  it  after  a  sharp  fight,  in  which  more 
than  a  hundred  of  his  men  were  slain.  Then  his  fury  rose 
to  a  strange  pitch.  He,  an  old  soldier,  a  Marshal  of 
France  in  expectancy,  trained  in  the  school  of  the  greatest 
generals,  accustomed,  during  many  years,  to  scientific 
war,  to  be  baffled  by  a  mob  of  country  gentlemen,  farmers, 
shopkeepers,  who  were  protected  only  by  a  wall  which 
any  good  engineer  would  at  once  have  pronounced  unten- 
able! He  raved,  he  blasphemed,  in  a  language  of  his  own, 
made  up  of  all  the  dialects  spoken  from  the  Baltic  to  the 
Atlantic.  He  would  raze  the  city  to  the  ground;  he  would 
spare  no  living  thing;  no,  not  the  young  girls;  not  the 
babies  at  the  breast.  As  to  the  leaders,  death  was  too 
light  a  punishment  for  them:  he  would  rack  them:  he 
would  roast  them  alive.  In  his  rage  he  ordered  a  shell  to 
be  flung  into  the  town  with  a  letter  containing  a  horrible 
menace.  He  would,  he  said,  gather  into  one  body  all  the 
Protestants  who  had  remained  at  their  homes  between 
Charlemont  and  the  sea,  old  men,  women,  children,  many 
of  them  near  in  blood  and  affection  to  the  defenders  of 
Londonderry.  No  protection,  whatever  might  be  the  au- 
thority by  which  it  had  been  ^iven,  should  be  respected.  The 
multitude  thus  brought  together  should  be  driven  under 
the  walls  of  Londonderry,  and  should  there  be  starved  to 
death  in  the  sight  of  their  countrymen,  their  friends,  their 
kinsmen.  This  was  no  idle  threat.  Parties  were  instantly 
sent  out  in  all  directions  to  collect  victims.  At  dawn,  on 
the  morning  of  the  second  of  July,  hundreds  of  Prot- 
estants, who  were  charged  with  no  crime,  who  were  in- 
capable of  bearing  arms,  and  many  of  whom  had  protec- 
tions granted  by  James,  were  dragged  to  the  gates  of  the 
city.  It  was  imagined  that  the  piteous  sight  would  quell 
the  spirit  of  the   colonists.    But  the  only  effect  was  to 

*  Avaux,  June  16-26,  1689, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


rouse  that  spirit  to  still  greater  energy.  An  order  was 
immediately  put  forth  that  no  man  should  utter  the  word 
Surrender  on  pain  of  death;  and  no  man  uttered  that 
\j^ord.  Several  prisoners  of  high  rank  were  in  the  town* 
Hitherto  they  had  been  well  treated,  and  had  received  as 
good  rations  as  were  measured  out  to  the  garrison.  They 
were  now  closely  confined.  A  gallows  was  erected  on  one 
of  the  bastions;  and  a  message  was  conveyed  to  Rosen,  re- 
questing him  to  send  a  confessor  instantly  to  prepare  his 
friends  death.  The  prisoners  in  great  dismay  wrote 
to  the  savage  Livonian,  but  received  no  anawer.  They 
then  addressed  themselves,  to  their  countryman,  Richard 
Hamilton.  They  were  willing,  they  said,  to  shed  their 
blood  for  their  King;  but  they  thought  it  hard  to  die  the 
ignominious  death  of  thieves  in  consequence  of  the  bar- 
barity of  their  own  companions  in  arms.  Hamilton, 
ttiough  a  man  of  lax  principles,  was  not  cruel.  He  had 
been  disgusted  by  the  inhumanity  of  Rosen,  but,  being 
only  second  in  command,  could  not  venture  to  express 
publicly,  all  that  he  thought.  He  however  remonstrated 
strongly.  Some  Irish  officers  felt  on  this  occasion  as  it 
was  natural  that  brave  men  should  feel,  and  declared, 
weeping  with  pity  and  indignation,  that  they  should  never 
cease  to  have  in  their  ears  the  cries  of  the  poor  women 
and  children  who  had  been  driven  at  the  point  of  the  pike 
to  die  of  famine  between  the  camp  and  the  city.  Rosen 
persisted  during  forty-eight  hours.  In  that  timemany  un- 
happy creatures  perished:  but  Londonderry  held  out  as 
resolutely  as  ever;  and  he  saw  that  his  crime  was  likely  to 
produce  nothing  but  hatred  and  obloquy.  He  at  length 
gave  way,  and  suffered  the  survivors  to  withdraw.  The 
garrison  then  took  down  the  gallows  which  had  been 
erected  on  the  bastion.* 

When  the  tidings  of  these  events  reached  Dublin,  James, 
though  by  no  means  prone  to  compassion,  was  startled  by 
an  atrocity  of  which  the  civil  wars  of  England  had  fur- 
nished  no  example,  and  was.  displeased  by  learning  that 
protections,  given  by  his  authority,  and  guaranteed  by  his 
honor,  had  been  publicly  declared  to  be  nullities.  He  com- 
plained to  the  French  ambassador,  and  said,  with  a 
warmth  which  the  occasion  fully  justified,  that  Rosen  was 
a  barbarous  Muscovite.    Melfort  could  not  refrain  from 


*  V/alker;  Mackenzie;  Light  to  the  Blind;  King,  iii,  13;  Leslie's  Answer  to  King;  Life 
of  James,  ii.  366.   I  ought  to  say  that  on  this  occasion  King  is  unjust  to  James, 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANt). 


adding  that,  if  Rosen  had  been  an  Englishman,  he  would 
have  been  hanged.  Avaux  was  utterly-  unable  to  under- 
stand this  effeminate  sensibility.  In  his  opinion,  nothing 
had  been  done  that  was  at  all  reprehensible;  and  he  had 
some  difficulty  in  commanding  himself  when  he  heard  the 
King  and  the  secretary  blame,  in  strong  language,  an  act 
of  wholesome  severity."*  In  truth  the  French  ambassador 
and  the  French  general  were  well  paired.  There  was  a 
great  difference,  doubtless,  in  appearance  and  manner,  be- 
tween the  handsome,  graceful,  and  refined'-^olitician, 
whose  dexterity  and  suavity  had  been  renowned  at  the 
most  polite  courts  of  Europe,  and  the  military  adventurer, 
whose  look  and  voice  reminded  all  who  came  near  him 
that  he  had  been  born  in  a  half  savage  country,  that  he 
had  risen  from  the  ranks,  and  that  he  had  once  been  sen- 
tenced to  death  for  marauding.  But  the  heart  of  the 
diplomatist  was  really  even  more  callous  than  that  of  the 
soldier. 

Rosen  was  recalled  to  Dublin;  and  Richard  Hamilton 
was  again  left  in  the  chief  command.  He  tried  gentler 
means  than  those  which  had  brought  so  much  reproach  on 
his  predecessor.  No  trick,  no  lie,  which  was  thought 
likely  to  discourage  the  starving  garrison  was  spared. 
One  day  a  great  shout  was  raised  by  the  whole  Irish 
camp.  The  defenders  of  Londonderry  were  soon  informed 
that  the  army  of  James  was  rejoicing  on  account  of  the 
fall  of  Enniskillen.  They  were  told  that  they  had  now  no 
chance  of  being  relieved,  and  were  exhorted  to  save  their 
lives  by  capitulating.  They  consented  to  negotiate.  But 
what  they  asked  was,  that  they  should  be  permitted  to  de- 
part armed  and  in  military  array,  by  land  or  by  water  at 
their  choice.  They  demanded  hostages  for  the  exact  ful- 
filment  of  these  conditions,  and  insisted  that  the  hostages 
should  be  sent  on  board  of  the  fleet  which  lay  in  Lough 
Foyle.  Such  terms  Hamilton  durst  not  grant:  the  Gov- 
ernors would  abate  nothing:  the  treaty  was  broken  off; 
and  the  conflict  recommenced. f 

By  this  time  July  was  far  advanced;  and  the  state  of 
the  city  was,  hour  by  hour,  becoming  more  frightful.  The 
number  of  inhabitants  had  been  thinned  more  by  famine 
and  disease  than  by  the  fire  of  the  enemy.    Yet  that  fire 


.   *  Leslie's  Answer  to  King;  Avaux,  July  5-15,  1689.    "Je  trouvay  I'expression  bien 
forte:  mais  je  ne  voulois  rien  repondre,  car  le  Roy  s'estoit  desja  fort  emport6." 
t  Mackenzie. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


183 


was  more  constant  than  ever.  One  of  the  gates  was  beaten 
in:  one  of  the  bastions  was  laid  in  ruins;  but  the  breaches 
made  by  day  were  repaired  by  night  with  indefatigable 
activity.  Every  attack  was  still  repelled.  But  the  fighting 
men  of  the  garrison  were  so  much  exhausted  that  they 
could  scarcely  keep  their  legs.  Several  of  them  in  the  act 
of  striking  at  the  enemy,  fell  dowm  from  mere  weakness. 
A  very  small  quantity  of  grain  remained,  and  was  doled 
out  by  mouthfuls.  The  stock  of  salted  hides  was  consid- 
erable, and  by  gnawing  them  the  garrison  appeased  the 
rage  of  hunger.  Dogs,  fattened  on  the  blood  of  the  slain 
who  lay  unburied  round  the  town,  were  luxuries  which 
few  could  afford  to  purchase.  The  price  of  a  whelp's  paw 
was  five  shillings  and  sixpence.  Nine  horses  were  still 
alive,  and  but  barely  alive.  They  were  so  lean  that  little 
meat  was  likely  to  be  found  upon  them.  It  was,  however, 
determined  to  slaughter  them  for  food.  The  people  per- 
ished so  fast,  that  it  was  impossible  for  the  survivors  to 
perform  the  rights  of  sepulture.  There  was  scarcely  a 
cellar  in  which  some  corpse  was  not  decaying.  Such  was 
the  extremity  of  distress  that  the  rats  who  came  to  feast 
in  those  hideous  dens  were  eagerly  hunted  and  greedily 
devoured.  A  small  fish,  caught  in  the  river,  was  not  to  be 
purchased  with  money.  The  only  price  for  which  such  a 
treasure  could  be  obtained  was  some  handfuls  of  oatmeal. 
Leprosies,  such  as  strange  and  unwholsome  diet  engen- 
ders, made  existence  a  constant  torment.  The  whole  city 
was  poisoned  by  the  stench  exhaled  from  the  bodies  of  the 
dead  and  of  the  half  dead.  That  there  should  be  fits  of 
discontent  and  insubordination  among  men  enduring  such 
misery  was  inevitable.  At  one  moment  it  was  suspected  that 
Walker  had  laid  up  somewhere  a  secret  store  of  food,  and 
was  revelling  in  private,  while  he  exhorted  others  to  suffer 
resolutely  for  the  good  cause.  His  house  was  strictly  ex- 
amined; his  innocence  fully  proved:  he  regained  his  pop- 
ularity;  and  the  garrison,  with  death  in  near  prospect, 
thronged  to  the  cathedral  to  hear  him  preach,  drank  in  his 
earnest  eloquence  with  delight,  and  went  forth  from  the 
house  of  God  with  haggard  faces  and  tottering  steps,  but 
with  spirit  still  unsubdued.  There  were,  indeed,  som.e 
secret  plottings.  A  very  few  obscure  traitors  opened  com- 
munications with  the  enemy.  But  it  was  necessary  that 
all  such  dealings  should  be  carefully  concealed.  None 
dared  to  utter  publicly  any  v^^ords  save  words  of  defiance 


184  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

and  stubborn  resolution.  Even  in  that  extremity  the  gen- 
eral cry  was,  No  surrender."  And  there  were  not  want- 
ing voices  which,  in  low  tones,  added,  First  the  horses 
and  hides;  and  then  the  prisoners;  and  then  each  other." 
It  was  afterwards  related,  half  in  jest,  yet  not  without  a 
horrible  mixture  of  earnest,  that  a  corpulent  citizen,  whose 
bujk  presented  a  strange  contrast  to  the  skeletons  which 
surrounded  him,  thought  it  expedient  to  conceal  himself 
from  the  numerous  eyes  which  followed  him  with  cannibal 
looks  whenever  he  appeared  in  the  streets.* 

It  was  no  slight  aggravation  of  the  sufferings  of  the 
garrison  that  all  this  time  the  English  ships  were  seen  far 
off  in  Lough  Foyle.  Communication  between  the  fleet 
and  the  city  was  almost  impossible.  One  diver  who  had 
attempted  to  pass  the  boom  was  drowned.  Another  was 
hanged.  The  language  of  signals  was  hardly  intelligible. 
On  the  thirteenth  of  July,  however,  a  piece  of  paper  sewed 
up  in  a  cloth  button  came  to  Walker's  hands.  It  was  a 
letter  from  Kirke^  and  contained  assurances  of  speedy 
relief.  But  more  than  a  fortnight  of  intense  misery  had 
since  elapsed;  and  the  hearts  of  the  most  sanguine  were 
sick  with  deferred  hope.  By  no  art  could  the  provisions 
which  were  left  be  made  to  hold  out  two  days  more.f 

Just  at  this  time  Kirke  received  from  England  a  des- 
patch, which  contained  positive  orders  that  Londonderry 
should  be  relieved.  He  accordingly  determined  to  make 
an  attempt  which,  as  far  as  appears,  he  might  have  made, 
with  at  least  an  equally  fair  prospect  of  success,  six  weeks 
earlier.  J 

Among  the  merchant  ships  which  had  come  to  Lough 
Foyle  under  his  convoy  was  one  called  the  Mountjoy.  The 
master,  Micaiah  Browning,  a  native  of  Londonderry,  had 
brought  from  England  a  large  cargo  of  provisions.  He 
had,  it  is  said,  repeatedly  remonstrated  against  the  inac- 
tion of  the  armament.     He  now  eagerly  volunteered  to 

*  Walker's  Account.  "The  fat  man  in  Londonderry"  became  a  proverbial  expression 
for  a  person  whose  prosperity  excited  the  envy  and  cupidity  of  his  less  fortunate  neigh- 
bor.'?. 

t  This,  according  to  Narcissus  Luttrell,  was  the  report  made  by  Captain  Withers, 
afterwards  a  highly  distinguished  officer,  on  whom  Pope  wrote  an  epitaph. 

$  The  despatch,  which  positively  commanded  Kirke  to  attack  the  boom,  was  signed 
by  Schomberg,  who  had  already  been  appointed  commander-in-chief  of  all  the  En- 
glish forces  in  Ireland,  A  copy  of  it  is  among  the  Nairne  MSS.  in  the  Bodleian  Li- 
brary. Wodrow,  on  no  better  authority  than  the  gossip  of  a  country  parish  in  Dum- 
bartonshire, attributes  the  relief  of  Londonderry  to  the  exhortations  of  a  heroic  Scotch 
preacher  named  Gordon.  I  am  .inclined  to  think  that  Kirke  was  more  likely  to  be  in- 
fluenced by  a  peremptory  order  from  Schomberg,  than  by  the  united  eloquence  of 
v^hole  synod  of  Presbyterian  divines. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


take  the  first  risk  of  succoring  his  fellow  citizens;  and  his 
offer  was  accepted.  Andrew  Douglas,  master  of  the  Phoe- 
nix, who  had  on  board  a  great  quantity  of  meal  from  Scot- 
land, was  willing  to  share  the  danger  and  the  honor.  The 
two  merchantmen  were  to  be  escorted  by  the  Dartmouth, 
a  frigate  of  thirty-six  guns,  commanded  by  Captain  John 
Leake,  afterwards  an  admiral  of  great  fame. 

It  was  the  twenty-eighth  of  July.  The  sun  had  just  set: 
the  evening  sermon  in  the  cathedral  was  over:  and  the 
heart-broken  congregation  had  separated;  when  the  senti- 
nels on  the  tower  saw  the  sails  of  three  vessels  coming  up 
the  Foyle.  Soon  there  was  a  stir  in  the  Irish  camp.  The 
besiegers  were  on  the  alert  for  miles  along  both  shores. 
The  ships  were  in  extreme  peril:  for  the  river  was  low; 
and  the  only  navigable  channel  ran  very  near  to  the  left 
bank,  where  the  headquarters  of  the  enemy  had  been  fixed, 
and  where  the  batteries  were  most  numerous.  Leake  per- 
formed his  duty  with  a  skill  and  spirit  worthy  of  his  noble 
profession,  exposed  his  frigate  to  cover  the  merchantmen, 
and  used  his  guns  with  great  effect.  At  length  the  little 
squadron  came  to  the  place  of  peril.  Then  the  Mountjoy 
took  the  lead,  and  went  right  at  the  boom.  The  huge 
barricade  cracked  and  gave  way:  but  the  shock  was  such 
that  the  Mountjoy  rebounded,  and  stuck  in  the  mud.  A 
yell  of  triumph  rose  from  the  banks:  the  Irish  rushed  to 
their  boats,  and  were  preparing  to  board:  but  the  Dart- 
mouth poured  on  them  a  well  directed  broadside  which 
threw  them  into  disorder.  Just  then  the  Phoenix  dashed 
at  the  breach  which  the  Mountjoy  had  made,  and  was  in  a 
moment  within  the  fence.  Meantime  the  tide  was  rising 
fast.  The  Mountjoy  began  to  move,  and  soon  passed  safe 
through  the  broken  stakes  and  floating  spars.  But  her 
brave  master  was  no  more.  A  shot  from  one  of  the  bat- 
teries had  struck  him;  and  he  died  by  the  rnost  enviable 
of  all  deaths,  in  sight  of  the  city  which  was  his  birthplace, 
which  was  his  home,  and  which  had  just  been  saved  by  his 
courage  and  self-devotion  from  the  most  frightful  form  of 
destruction.  The  night  had  closed  in  before  the  conflict 
at  the  boom  began:  but  the  flash  of  the  guns  was  seen, 
and  the  noise  heard,  by  the  lean  and  ghastly  multitude 
which  covered  the  walls  of  the  city.  When  the  Mountjoy 
grounded,  and  when  the  shout  of  triumph  rose  from  the 
Irish  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  the  hearts  of  the  besieged 
died  within  them.  One  who  endured  the  unutterable  an- 
Voi,.  iii-r. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


guish  of  that  moment  has  told  us  that  they  looked  fearfully 
livid  in  each  other's  eyes.  Even  after  the  barricade  had 
been  passed,  there  was  a  terrible  half  hour  of  suspense. 
It  was  ten  o'clock  before  the  ships  arrived  at  the  quay. 
The  whole  population  was  there  to  welcome  them.  A 
screen  made  of  casks  filled  with  earth  was  hastily  thrown 
up  to  protect  the  landing  place  from  the  batteries  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river;  and  then  the  work  of  unloading 
began.  First  were  rolled  on  shore  barrels  containing  six 
thousand  bushels  of  meal.  Then  came  great  cheeses,  casks 
of  beef,  flitches  of  bacon,  kegs  of  butter,  sacks  of  pease  and 
biscuit,  ankers  of  brandy.  Not  many  hours  before,  half  a 
pound  of  tallow  and  three  quarters  of  a  pound  of  salted 
hide  had  been  weighed  out  with  niggardly  care  to  every 
fighting  man.  The  ration  which  each  now  received  was 
three  pounds  of  flour,  two  pounds  of  beef,  and  a  pint  of 
pease.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  with  what  tears  grace  was  said 
over  the  suppers  of  that  evening.  There  was  little  sleep 
on  either  side  of  the  wall.  The  bonfires  shone  bright  along 
the  whole  circuit  of  the  ramparts.  The  Irish  guns  con- 
tinued to  roar  all  night;  and  all  night  the  bells  of  the-  res- 
cued city  made  ansv/er  to  the  Irish  guns  with  a  peal  of  joy- 
ous defiance.  Through  the  three  following  days  the  batteries 
of  the  enemy  continued  to  play.  But,  on  the  third  night, 
flames  were  seen  arising  from  the  camp;  and,  when  the  first  of 
August  dawned,  a  line  of  smoking  ruins  marked  the  site 
lately  occupied  by  the  huts  of  the  besiegers;  and  the  citi- 
zens saw  far  off  the  long  column  of  pikes  and  standards  re- 
treating up  the  left  bank  of  the  Foyle  towards  Strabane.* 

So  ended  this  great  siege,  the  most  memorable  in  the 
annals  of  the  British  isles.  It  had  lasted  a  hundred  and 
five  days.  The  garrison  had  been  reduced  from  about 
seven  thousand  effective  men  to  about  three,  thousand. 
The  loss  of  the  besiegers  cannot  be  precisely  ascertained. 
Walker  estimated  it  at  eight  thousand  men.  It  is  certain 
from  the  despatches  of  Avaux  that  the  regiments  which 
returned  from  the  blockade  had  been  so  much  thinned 
that  many  of  them  were  not  more  than  two  hundred  strong. 
Of  thirty-six  French  gunners  who  had  superintended  the 
cannonading,  thirty-one  had  been  killed  or  disabled. f  The 

*  Waljcer;  Mhc.]  .'  nzi^':  TTist r)!rr  c'c  la  Revolution  d'Irlande,  Amsterdam,  1691;  Londor. 
Ga/ette.  A.'!  '  IUk ban  among  the  NairneMSS. ;  Life  of  Sir  Jobt^ 

Leake;  tli'  en  Mr.  Walker's  isocount  of  the  Siege  of  Londofv 

derry,  lie*  .. 

'i'Avaux  lo  ocij^ucla^,  jul>  10- '^o;  to  Lewis,  Aug.  9-19, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


187 


means  both  of  attack  and  of  defence  had  undoubtedly  been 
such  as  would  have  moved  the  great  warriors  of  the  Con- 
tinent to  laughter;  and  this  is  the  very  circumstance  which 
gives  so  peculiar  an  interest  to  the  history  of  the  con- 
test. It  was  a  contest,  not  between  engineers,  but  between 
nations;  and  the  victory  remained  with  the  nation  which, 
though  inferior  in  number,  was  superior  in  civilization, 
in  capacity  for  self-government,  and  in  stubbornness  of 
resolution.* 

As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  the  Irish  Army  had  re- 
tired, a  deputation  from  the  city  hastened  to  Lough  Foyle, 
and  invited  Kirke  to  take  the  command.  He  came  ac- 
companied by  a  long  train  of  officers,  and  was  received  in 
state  by  the  two  governors,  who  delivered  up  to  him  the 
authority  which,  under  the  pressure  of  necessity,  they  had 
assumed.  He  remained  only  a  few  days;  but  he  had  time 
to  show  enough  of  the  incurable  vices  of  his  character  to 
disgust  a  population  distinguished  by  austere  morals  and 
ardent  public  spirit.  There  was,  however,  no  outbreak. 
The  city  was  in  the  highest  good  humor.  Such  quantities 
of  provisions  had  been  landed  from  the  fleet  that  there  was 
in  every  house  a  plenty  never  before  known.  A  few  days 
earlier  a  man  had  been  glad  to  obtain  for  twenty  pence  a 
mouthful  of  carrion  scraped  from  the  bones  of  a  starved 
horse.  A  pound  of  good  beef  was  now  sold  for  three  half- 
pence. Meanwhile  all  hands  were  busied  in  removing 
corpses  which  had  been  thinly  covered  with  earth,  in  filling 
up  the  holes  which  the  shells  had  ploughed  in  the  ground, 
and  in  repairing  the  battered  roofs  of  the  houses.  The  re- 
collection of  past  dangers  and  privations,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  deserved  well  of  the  English  nation 
and  of  all  Protestant  churches,  swelled  the  hearts  of  the 
towns-people  with  honest  pride.  That  pride  grew  stronger 
when  they  received  from  William  a  letter,  acknowledging, 
in  the  most  affectionate  language,  the  debt  which  he  owed 
to  the  brave  and  trusty  citizens  of  his  good  city.  The  whole 
population  crowded  to  the  Diamond  to  hear  the  royal 
epistle  read.  At  the  close  all  the  guns  on  the  ramparts 
sent  forth  a  voice  of  joy:  all  the  ships  in  the  river  made 

*  ''You  will  see  here,  as  you  have  all  along,  that  the  tradesmen  of  Londonderry  had 
more  skill  in  their  defence  than  the  great  officers  of  the  Irish  Army  in  their  attacks." 
— Light  to  the  Blind.  The  author  of  this  work  is  furious  against  the  Irish  gunners.  The 
boom,  he  thinks,  would  never  have  been  broken  if  they  had  done  their  duty.  Were  they 
drunk?    Were  they  traitors?    He  does  not  determine  the  point.    "Lord,"  he  exclaimSi 

who  seest  the  hearts  of  people,  we  leave  the  judgment  of  this  affair  to  thy  mercy.  Iq 
ihe  interim  those  gunners  lost  Ireland."  ^ 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


answer:  barrels  of  ale  were  broken  up;  and  the  health  oi 
Their  Majesties  was  drunk  with  shouts  and  volleys  of 
musketry. 

Five  generations  have  since  passed  away;  and  still  the 
wall  of  Londonderry  is  to  the  Protestants  of  Ulster  what 
the  trophy  of  Marathon  was  to  the  Athenians.  A  lofty 
pillar,  rising  from  a  bastion  which  bore  during  many  weeks 
the  heaviest  fire  of  the  enem.y  is  seen  far  up  and  far  down 
the  Foyle.  On  the  sumimit  is  the  statue  of  Walker,  such 
as  when,  in  the  last  and  most  terrible  emergency,  his  elo- 
quence roused  the  fainting  courage  of  his  brethren.  In  one 
hand  he  grasps  a  Bible.  The  other,  pointing  down  the 
river,  seems  to  direct  the  eyes  of  his  famished  audience  to 
the  English  topmast  in  the  distant  bay.  Such  a  monu- 
ment was  well  deserved:  yet  it  was  scarcely  needed:  for  in 
truth  the  whole  city  is  to  this  day  a  monument  of  the 
great  deliverance.  The  wall  is  carefully  preserved;  nor 
would  any  plea  of  health  or  convenience  be  held  by  the  in- 
habitants sufficient  to  justify  the  demolition  of  that  sacred 
enclosure  which,  in  the  evil  time,  gave  shelter  to  their  race 
and  their  religion.*  The  summit  of  the  ramparts  forms  a 
pleasant  walk.  The  bastions  have  been  turned  into  little 
gardens.  Here  and  there,  among  the  shrubs  and  flowers, 
may  be  seen  the  old  culverins  which  scattered  bricks,  cased 
with  lead,  among  the  Irish  ranks.  One  antique  gun,  the 
gift  of  the  Fishmongers  of  London,  was  distinguished, 
during  the  hundred  and  five  memorable  days,  by  the  loud- 
ness of  its  report,  and  still  bears  the  name  of  Roaring  Meg. 
The  cathedral  is  filled  with  relics  and  trophies.  In  the  ves- 
tibule is  a  huge  shell,  one  of  many  hundreds  of  shells 
which  were  thrown  into  the  city.  Over  the  altar  are  still 
seen  the  French  flag-staves,  taken  by  the  garrison  in  a  des- 
perate sally.  The  white  ensigns  of  the  House  of  Bourbon 
have  long  been  dust:  but  their  place  has  been  supplied  by 
new  banners,  the  work  of  the  fairest  hands  of  Ulster.  The 
anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  the  gates  were  closed,  and 
the  anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  the  Siege  was  raised, 
have  been  down  to  our  own  time  celebrated  by  salutes, 
processions,  banquets,  and  sermons:  Lundy  has  been  exe- 
cuted in  effigy;  and  the  sword,  said  by  tradition  to  be  that 
of  Maumont,  has,  on  great  occasions,  been  carried  in 
triumph.  There  is  still  a  Walker  Club  and  a  Murray  Club. 


♦In  a  collection  entitled  ''Deriana,"  which  was  published  more  than  sixty yeftrs ago,  is 
B  curious  letter  on  this  subject. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


The  humble  tombs  of  the  Protestant  captains  have  been 
carefully  sought  out,  repaired,  and  embellished.  It  is  im- 
possible not  to  respect  the  sentiment  which  indicates  itself 
by  these  tokens.  It  is  a  sentiment  which  belongs  to  the 
higher  and  purer  part  of  human  nature,  and  which  adds 
not  a  little  to  the  strength  of  states.  A  people  which  takes 
no  pride  in  the  noble  achievements  of  remote  ancestors 
will  never  achieve  anything  worthy  to  be  remembered  with 
pride  by  remote  descendants.  Yet  it  is  impossible  for  the 
moralist  or  the  statesman  to  look  with  unmixed  com- 
placency on  the  solemnities  with  which  Londonderry  com- 
memorates her  deliverance,  and  on  the  honors  which  she 
pays  to  those  who  saved  her.  Unhappily  the  animosities 
of  her  brave  champions  have  descended  with  their  glory. 
The  faults  which  are  ordinarily  found  in  dominant  castes 
and  dominant  sects  have  not  seldom  shown  themselves 
without  disguise  at  her  festivities;  and  even  with  the  ex- 
pressions of  pious  gratitude  which  have  resounded  from 
her  pulpits  have  too  often  been  mingled  words  of  wrath 
and  defiance. 

The  Irish  army  which  had  retreated  to  Strabane  re 
mained  there  but  a  very  short  time.    The  spirit  of  thG 
troops  had  been  depressed  by  their  recent  failure,  and  was 
soon  completely  cowed  by  the  news  of  a  great  disaster  in 
another  quarter. 

Three  weeks  before  this  time  the  Duke  of  Berwick  had 
gained  an  advantage  over  a  detachment  of  the  Enniskil- 
leners,  and  had,  by  their  own  confession,  killed  or  taken 
more  than  fifty  of  them.  They  were  in  hopes  of  obtaining 
some  assistance  from  Kirke,  to  whom  they  had  sent  a  de- 
putation; and  they  still  persisted  in  rejecting  all  terms  of- 
fered by  the  enemy.  It  was  therefore  determined  at  Dub- 
lin that  an  attack  should  be  made  upon  them  from  several 
quarters  at  once.  Macarthy,  who  had  been  rewarded  for 
his  services  in  Munster  with  the  title  of  Viscount  Mount- 
cashel,  marched  towards  Lough  Erne  from  the  east  with 
three  regiments  of  foot,  two  regiments  of  dragoons,  and 
some  troops  of  cavalry.  A  considerable  force,  which  lay 
encamped  near  the  mouth  of  the  river  Drowes,  was  at  the 
same  time  to  advance  from  the  west.  The  Duke  of  Berwick 
was  to  come  from  the  north, with  such  horse  and  dragoons  as 
could  be  spared  from  the  army  which  was  besieging  Lon- 
donderry. The  Enniskilleners  were  not  fully  apprised  of 
tne  whole  plan  which  had  been  laid  for  their  destruction: 


195  * 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


but  they  knew  that  Macarthy  was  on  the  road  with  a  force 
exceeding  any  which  they  could  bring  into  the  field.  Their 
anxiety  was  in  some  degree  relieved  by  the  return  of  the 
deputation  which  they  had  sent  to  Kirke.  Kirke  could 
spare  no  soldiers:  but  he  had  sent  some  arms,  some  am- 
munition, and  some  experienced  officers,  of  whom  the  chief 
were  Colonel  Wolseley  and  Lieutenant  Colonel  Berry. 
These  officers  had  come  by  sea  round  the  coast  of  Donegal, 
and  had  run  up  the  Erne.  On  Sunday,  the  tw^enty-ninth 
of  July,  it  was  known  that  their  boat  was  approaching  the 
island  of  Enniskillen.  The  whole  population,  male  and 
female,  came  to  the  shore  to  greet  them.  It  was  with  dif- 
ficulty that  they  made  their  way  to  the  Castle  through  the 
crowds  which  hung  on  them,  blessing  God  that  dear  old 
England  had  not  quite  forgotten  the  Englishmen  who  were 
upholding  her  cause  against  great  odds  in  the  heart  of 
Ireland. 

Wolseley  seems  to  have  been  in  every  respect  well  qual- 
ified for  his  post.  He  was  a  stanch  Protestant,  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  among  the  Yorkshiremen  who  rose  up 
for  the  Prince  of  Orange  and  a  free  Parliament,  and  had, 
even  before  the  landing  of  the  Dutch  army,  proved  his 
zeal  for  liberty  and  pure  religion,  by  causing  the  Mayor 
of  Scarborough,  who  had  made  a  speech  in  favor  of  King 
James,  to  be  brought  into  the  market-place  and  well 
tossed  there  in  a  blanket.*  This  vehement  hatred  of 
Popery  was,  in  the  estimation  of  the  men  of  Enniskillen; 
the  first  of  all  the  qualifications  of  a  leader;  and  Wolsele}^ 
had  other  and  more  iniportant  qualifications.  Though 
himself  regularly  bred  to  war,  he  seems  to  have  had  a 
peculiar  aptitude  for  the  management  of  irregular  troops. 
He  had  scarcely  taken  on  himself  the  chief  command 
when  he  received  notice  that  Mountcashel  had  laid  siege 
to  the  Castle  of  Crum.  Crum  was  the  frontier  garrison 
of  the  Protestants  of  Fermanagh.  The  ruins  of  the  old 
fortifications  are  now  among  the  attractions  of  a  beautiful 
pleasure-ground  situated  on  a  woody  promontory  which 
overlooks  Lough  Erne.  Wolseley  determined  to  raise  the 
siege.  He  sent  Berry  forward  with  such  troops  as  could 
be  instantly  put  in  motion,  and  promised  to  follow  speedily 
with  a  larger  force. 

Berry,  after  marching  some  miles,  encountered  thirteen 


•  Bernardi's  Life  of  Himself,  17^7.  Wolseley's  exploit  at  Scarborough  is  mentioned 
in  one  of  the  letters  pnblished  by  Sir  Henry  Ellis. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


191 


companies  of  Macarthy's  dragoons,  commanded  by  An- 
thony, the  most  brilliant  and  accomplished  of  all  who  bore 
the  name  of  Hamilton,  but  much  less  successful  as  a  soldier 
than  as  a  courtier,  a  lover,  and  a  writer.  Hamilton's 
dragoons  ran  at  the  first  fire:  he  was  severely  wounded; 
and  his  second  in  command  was  shot  dead.  Macarthy 
soon  came  up  to  support  Hamilton;  and  at  the  same  time 
Wolseley  came  up  to  support  Berr3^  The  hostile  armies 
were  now  in  presence  of  each  other.  Macarthy  had  above 
five  thousand  men  and  several  pieces  of  artillery.  The 
Enjiiskilleners  were  under  three  thousand;  and  they  had 
marched  in  such  haste  that  they  had  brought  only  one 
day's  provisions.  It  was  therefore  absolutely  necessary 
for  them  either  to  fight  instantly  or  to  retreat.  Wolseley 
determined  to  consult  the  men;  and  this  determination, 
which,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  would  have  been  most 
unworthy  of  a  general,  was  fully  justified  by  the  peculiar 
composition  and  temper  of  the  little  army,  an  army  made 
up  of  gentlemen  and  yeomen  fighting,  not  for  pay,  but  for 
their  lands,  their  wives,  their  children,  and  their  God. 
The  ranks  were  drawn  up  under  arms;  and  the  question 
was  put,  Advance  or  Retreat?"  The  answer  was  a  uni- 
versal shout  of  ^'  Advance."  Wolseley  gave  out  the  word 
No  Popery."  It  was  received  with  loud  applause.  He 
instantly  made  his  dispositions  for  an  attack.  As  he  ap- 
proached, the  enemy,  to  his  great  surprise,  began  to  retire. 
The  Enniskilleners  were  eager  to  pursue  with  all  speed: 
but  their  commander,  suspecting  a  snare,  restrained  their 
ardor  and  positively  forbade  them  to  break  their  ranks. 
Thus  one  army  retreated  and  the  other  followed,  in  good 
order,  through  the  little  town  of  Newton  Butler.  About  a 
mile  from  that  town  the  Irish  faced  about,  and  made  a 
stand.  Their  position  was  well  chosen.  They  were  drawn 
up  on  a  hill  at  the  foot  of  which  lay  a  deep  bog.  A  nar- 
row paved  causeway  which  ran  across  the  bog  was  the 
only  road  by  which  the  cavalry  of  the  Enniskilleners  could 
advance;  for  on  the  right  and  left  were  pools,  turf  pits  and 
quagmires,  which  afforded  no  footing  to  horses.  Macarthy 
placed  his  cannon  in  such  a  manner  as  to  sweep  this  cause- 
way. 

Wolseley  ordered  infantry  to  the  attack.  They  strug- 
gled through  the  bog,  made  their  way  to  firm  ground,  and 
rushed  on  the  guns.  There  was  then  a  short  and  desperate 
fight.    The  Irish  cannoneers  stood  gallantly  to  their  piecQ§ 


192 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


till  they  were  cut  down  to  a  man.  The  Enniskillen  horse, 
no  longer  in  danger  of  being  mowed  down  by  the  fire  of 
the  artillery,  came  fast  up  the  causeway.  The  Irish 
dragoons  who  had  run  away  in  the  morning  were  smitten 
with  another  panic,  and,  without  striking  a  blow,  galloped 
from  the  field.  The  horse  followed  the  example.  Such 
was  the  terror  of  the  fugitives  that  many  of  them  spurred  v 
hard  till  their  beasts  fell  down,  and  then  continued  to  fly 
on  foot,  throwing  away  carbines,  swords,  and  even  coats, 
as  incumbrances.  The  infantry,  seeing  themselves  deserted, 
flung  down  their  pikes  and  muskets  and  ran  for  their  lives. 
The  conquerors  now  gave  loose  to  that  ferocity  which  has 
seldom  failed  to  disgrace  the  civil  wars  of  Ireland.  The 
butchery  was  terrible.  Near  fifteen  hundred  of  the  van- 
quished were  put  to  the  sword.  About  five  hundred  more, 
in  ignorance  of  the  country,  took  a  road  which  led  to 
Lough  Erne.  The  lake  was  before  them;  the  enemy  be- 
hind: they  plunged  into  the  waters  and  perished  there.  Ma- 
carthy,  abandoned  by  his  troops,  rushed  into  the  midst  of 
the  pursuers,  and  very  nearly  found  the  death  which  he 
sought.  He  was  wounded  in  several  places:  he  was  struck 
to  the  ground;  and  in  another  moment  his  brains  would 
have  been  knocked  out  with  the  butt  end  of  a  musket, 
when  he  was  recognized  and  saved.  The  colonists  lost 
only  twenty  men  killed  and  fifty  wounded.  They  took 
four  hundred  prisoners,  seven  pieces  of  cannon,  fourteen 
barrels  of  powder,  all  the  drums  and  all  the  colors  of  the 
vanquished  enemy.* 

The  battle  of  Newton  Butler  was  won  on  the  third  day 
after  the  boom  thrown  over  the  Foyle  was  broken.  At 
Strabane  the  news  met  the  Celtic  army  w^hich  was  retreat- 
ing from  Londonderry.  All  was  terror  and  confusion:  the 
tents  were  struck:  the  military  stores  were  flung  by  wagon 
loads  into  the  waters  of  the  Mourne;  and  the  dismayed 
Irish,  leaving  many  sick  and  wounded  to  the  mercy  of  the 
victorious   Protestants,  fled  to  Omagh,  and    thence  to 

*  Hamilton's  True  Relation;  Mac  Cormick's  Further  Account;  London  Gazette,  Aug. 
22,  1689;  Life  of  James,  ii.  368,  369;  Avaux  to  Lewis,  Aug.  4-14,  and  to  Louvois  of  the 
same  date.  Story  mentions  a  report  that  the  panic  among  the  Irish  was  caused  by  the 
mistake  of  an  officer  who  called  out  "Right  about  face"  instead  of  ''Right  face." 
Neither  Avaux  nor  James  had  heard  anything  about  this  mistake.  Indeed  the  dragoons 
who  set  the  example  of  flight  were  not  in  the  habit  of  waiting  for  orders  to  turn  their 
backs  on  an  enemy.  They  had  run  away  once  before  on  that  very  day.  Avaux  gives  a 
very  simple  account  of  the  defeat:  ''Ces  mesmes  dragons  qui  avoient  fuy  le  matin 
lascherent  le  pied  avec  tout  le  reste  de  la  cavalerie,  sans  tirer  un  coup  de  pistolet;  et  ils 
s'enfuirent  tous  avec  une  telle  epouvante  qu'ils  jett^rent  mousquetons,  pistolets,  et 
espees;  et  la  plupart  d'eux,  ayant  creve  leurs  chevauu,  se  d^»habill6r<fnt  pour  aller  plus 
yi»te  pied. 


V/ILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


Charlemont.  Sarsfield,  who  commanded  at  Sligo,  found 
it  necessary  to  abandon  that  town,  which  was  instantly  oc- 
cupied by  a  detachment  of  Kirke's  troops.*  Dublin  was  in 
consternation.  James  dropped  words  which  indicated  an 
intention  of  flying  to  the  Continent.  Evil  tidings  indeed 
came  fast  upon  him.  Almost  at  the  same  time  -at  which 
he  learned  that  one  of  his  armies  had  raised  the  siege  of 
Londonderry,  and  that  another  had  been  routed  at  New- 
ton Butler,  he  received  intelligence  scarcely  less  disheart- 
ening from  Scotland. 

It  is  now  necessary  to  trace  the  progress  of  those  events, 
to  which  Scotland  owes  her  political  and  her  religious  lib^ 
erty,  her  prosperity,  and  her  civilization. 


CHAPTER  XIII.— (i689-'9o.) 

The  violence  of  revolutions  is  generally  proportioned  to 
the  degree  of  the  maladministration  which  has  produced 
them.  It  is  therefore  not  strange  that  the  government  of 
Scotland,  having  been  during  many  years  far  more  oppres- 
sive and  corrupt  than  the  government  of  England,  should 
have  fallen  with  a  far  heavier  ruin.  The  movement  against 
the  last  king  of  the  House  of  Stuart  was  in  England  con- 
servative, in  Scotland  destructive.  The  English  com- 
plained, not  of  the  law,  but  of  the  violation  of  the  law. 
They  rose  up  against  the  first  magistrate  merely  in  order 
to  assert  the  supremacy  of  the  law.  They  were  for  the 
most  part  strongly  attached  to  the  Church  established  by 
law.  Even  in  applying  that  extraordinary  remedy  to 
which  an  extraordinary  emergency  compelled  them  to  have 
recourse,  they  deviated  as  little  as  possible  from  the  ordi- 
nary methods  prescribed  by  the  law.  The  convention 
which  met  at  Westminster,  though  summoned  by  irregular 
writs,  was  constituted  on  the  exact  model  of  a  regular 
Great  Council  of  the  Realm.  No  man  was  invited  to  the 
Upper  House  whose  right  to  sit  there  was  not  clear.  The 
knights  and  burgesses  of  the  Lower  House  were  chosen 
by  those  electors  who  would  have  been  entitled  to  send 
members  to  a  Parliament  called  under  che  great  zeal.  The 
franchises  of  the  forty  shilling  freeholder,  of  the  house- 


*  Hamilton's  True  Relation, 


i94 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


holder  paying  scot  and  lot,  of  the  burgage  tenant,  of  the 
liveryman  of  London,  of  the  Master  of  Arts  of  Oxford, 
were  respected.  The  sense  of  the  constituent  bodies  was 
taken  with  as  little  violence  on  the  part  of  mobs,  with  as 
little  trickery  on  the  part  of  returning  officers,  as  at  any 
general  election  of  that  age.  When  at  length  the  Estates 
met,  their  deliberations  were  carried  on  with  perfect  free- 
dom and  in  strict  accordance  with  ancient  forms.  There 
was  indeed,  after  the  first  flight  of  James,  an  alarming  an- 
archy in  London  and  in  some  parts  of  the  country.  But 
that  anarchy  nowhere  lasted  longer  than  forty-eight  hours. 
From  the  day  on  which  William  reached  Saint  James's, 
not  even  the  most  unpopular  agents  of  the  fallen  govern- 
ment, not  even  the  ministers  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  had  anything  to  fear  from  the  fury  of  the  popu- 
lace. 

In  Scotland  the  course  of  events  was  very  different. 
There  the  law  itself  was  a  grievance;  and  James  had  per- 
haps incurred  more  unpopularity  by  enforcing  it  than  by 
violating  it.  The  Church  establislied  by  law  was  the  most 
odious  institution  in  the  realm.  The  tribunals  had  pro- 
nounced some  sentences  so  flagitious,  the  Parliament  had 
passed  some  Acts  so  oppressive,  that,  unless  those  sen- 
tences and  those  Acts  were  treated  as  nullities,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  bring  together  a  convention  commanding  the 
public  respect  and  expressing  the  public  opinion.  It  was 
hardly  to  be  expected,  for  example,  that  the  Whigs,  in  this 
day  of  their  power,  would  endure  to  see  their  hereditary 
leader,  the  son  of  a  martyr,  the  grandson  of  a  martyr,  ex- 
cluded from  the  Parliament  House  in  which  nine  of  his  an- 
cestors had  sate  as  Earls  of  Argyle,  and  excluded  by  a 
judgment  on  which  the  whole  kingdom  cried  shame.  Still 
less  was  it  to  be  expected  that  they  would  suffer  the  elec- 
tion of  members  for  counties  and  towns  to  be  conducted 
according  to  the  provisions  of  the  existing  law.  For  un- 
der the  existing  law  no  elector  could  vote  without  swear- 
ing that  he  renounced  the  covenant,  and  that  he  acknowl- 
edged the  royal  supremacy  in  matters  ecclesiastical.* 
Such  an  oath  no  rigid  Presbyterian  could  take.  If  such 
an  oath  had  been  exacted,  the  constituent  bodies  would 
have  been  merely  small  knots  of  prelatists:  the  business 
of  devising  securities  against  oppression  would  have  been 
left  to  the  oppressors;  and  the  great  party  which  had  been 

"~  *  Act  Pari.  Scot.,  Aug.  31,  1681.  ' 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


195 


most  active  in  effecting  the  revolution  would,  in  an  assem- 
bly sprung  from  the  revolution,  have  had  not  a  single 
representative.* 

William  saw  that  he  must  not  think  of  paying  to  the 
laws  of  Scotland  that  scrupulous  respect  which  he  had 
wisely  and  righteously  paid  to  the  laws  of  England.  It  was 
absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  determine  by  his  own 
authority  how  that  Convention  which  was  to  meet  at  Edin- 
burgh should  be  chosen,  and  that  he  should  assume  the 
power  of  annulling  some  judgments  and  some  statutes. 
He  accordingly  summoned  to  the  Parliament  House  sev- 
eral Lords  who  had  been  deprived  of  their  honors  by  sen- 
tences which  the  general  voice  loudly  condemned  as  un- 
just; and  he  took  on  himself  to  dispense  with  the  Act 
which  deprived  Presbyterians  of  the  elective  franchise. 

The  consequence  was  that  the  choice  of  almost  all  the 
shires  and  burghs  fell  on  Whig  candidates.  The  defeated 
party  complained  loudly  of  foul  play,  of  the  rudeness  of 
tlie  populace,  and  of  the  partiality  of  the  presiding  mag- 
istrates; and  these  complaints  were  in  many  cases  well 
founded.  It  is  not  under  such  rulers  as  Lauderdale  and 
Dundee  that  nations  learn  justice  and  moderation. f 

Nor  was  it  only  at  the  elections  that  the  popular  feeling 
so  long  and  so  severely  compressed,  exploded  with  vio- 
lence. The  heads  and  the  hands  of  the  martyred  Whigs 
were  taken  down  from  the  gates  of  Edinburgh,  carried  in 
procession  by  great  multitudes  to  the  cemeteries,  arid  laid 
in  the  earth  with  solemn  respect. J  It  would  have  been  well 
if  the  public  enthusiasm  had  manifested  itself  in  no 
less  praiseworthy  form.  Unhappily,  throughout  a  large 
part  of  Scotland  the  clergy  of  the  Established  Church 
were,  to  use  the  phrase  then  common,  rabbled.  The 
morning  of  Christmas  day  was  fixed  for  the  commence^ 
ment  of  these  outrages.  For  nothing  disgusted  the  rigid 
Covenanter  more  than  the  reverence  paid  by  the  prelatist  to 
the  ancient  holidays  of  the  Church.  That  such  reverence 
may  be  carried  to  an  absurd  extreme  is  true.  But  a  phi- 
losopher may  perhaps  be  inclined  to  think  the  opposite  ex- 
treme not  less  absurd,  and  may  ask  why  religion  should 
reject  the  aid  of  associations  which  exist  in  every  nation 

*  Balcarras's  Memoirs;  Short  History  of  the  Revolution  in  Scotland  in  a  letter  from  a 
Scotch  gentleman  in  Amsterdam  to  his  friend  in  London,  1712. 
t  Balcarras's  Memoirs;  Life  of  James,  ii.  341. 

$  A  Memorial  for  His  Higianess  the  Prince  of  Orange  in  Relation  to  the  Affairs  of 
Scotland,  by  two  Persons  oi  Quality,  1689. 


196 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


sufficiently  civilized  to  have  a  calendar,  and  which  are  found 
by  experience  to  have  a  powerful  and  often  a  salutary  effect. 
The  Puritan,  who  w^as,  in  general,  but  too  ready  to  follow 
precedents  and  analogies  drawn  from  the  history  and  juris- 
prudence of  the  Jews,  might  have  found  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment quite  as  clear  warrant  for  keeping  festivals  in  honor 
of  great  events  as  for  assassinating  bishops  and  refusing 
quarter  to  captives.  He  certainly  did  not  learn  from  his 
master,  Calvin,  to  hold  such  festivals  in  abhorrence;  for  it 
was  in  consequence  of  the  strenuous  exertions  of  Calvin 
that  Christmas  was,  after  an  interval  of  some  years,  again 
observed  by  the  citizens  of  Geneva.*  But  there  had  arisen 
in  Scotland  Calvinists  who  were  to  Calvin  what  Calvin  was 
to  Laud.  To  these  austere  fanatics  a  holiday  was  an  ob- 
ject of  positive  disgust  and  hatred.  They  long  continued 
in  their  solemn  manifestoes  to  reckon  it  among  the  sins 
which  would  one  day  bring  down  some  fearful  judgment 
on  the  land  that  the  Court  of  Session  took  a  vacation  in 
the  last  week  of  December.f 

On  Christmas  day,  therefore,  the  Covenanters  held 
armed  musters  by  concert  in  many  parts  of  the  western 
shires.  Each  band  marched  to  the  nearest  manse,  and 
sacked  the  cellar  and  larder  of  the  minister  which  at  that 
season  were  probably  better  stocked  than  usual.  The 
priest  of  Baal  was  reviled  and  insulted,  sometimes  beaten, 
sometimes  ducked.  His  furniture  was  thrown  out  of  the 
windows;  his  wife  and  children  turned  out  of  doors  in  the 
snow.  He  was  then  carried  to  the  market-place,  and  ex- 
posed during  some  time  as  a  malefactor.  His  gown  was 
torn  to  shreds  over  his  head;  if  he  had  a  prayer  book  in 
his  pocket  it  was  burned;  and  he  was  dismissed  with  a 
charge,  never,  as  he  valued  his  life,  to  officiate  in  the  parish 
again.  The  work  of  reformation  having  been  thus  com- 
pleted, the  reformers  locked  up  the  church  and  departed 

*  See  Calvin's  Letter  to  Haller,  iv,  Non.  Jan.  1551:  '^Priusquam  urbem  unquam  in- 
grederer,  nullse  prorsus  erant  feriae  prseter  diem  Dominicum.  Ex  quo  sum  revocatus 
hoc  temperamentum  quaesivi,  ut  Christi  natalis  celebraretur." 

t  In  the  Act,  Declaration,  and  Testimony  of  the  Seceders,  dated  in  December,  1736. 
it  is  said  that  ''countenance  is  given  by  authority  of  Parliament  to  the  observation  of 
Holidays  in  Scotland,  by  the  vacation  of  our  most  considerable  Courts  of  Justice  in  the 
latter  end  of  December."  This  is  declared  to  be  a  national  sin,  and  a  ground  of  the 
Lord's  indignation.  In  March,  1758,  the  Associate  Synod  addressed  a  Solemn  Warning 
lO  the  nation,  in  which  the  same  complaint  was  repeated.  A  poor  crazy  creature,  whose 
nonsense  h^s  been  thought  worthy  of  being  reprinted  even  in  our  own  time,  says:  "I 
leave  my  testimony  against  the  abominable  Act  of  the  pretended  Queen  Anne  and  her 
pretended  British,  really  Brutish  Parliament,  for  enacting  the  observance  of  that  which 
is  called  the  Yule  Vacancy," — The  Dying  Testimony  of  William  Wilson,  sometime 
Schoolmaster  in  Park,  in  the  Parish  of  Douglas,  aged  68,  who  died  in  1757. 


V/ILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


with  the  keys.  In  fairness  to  these  men  it  must  be  owned 
that  they  had  suffered  such  oppression  as  may  excuse, 
though  it  cannot  justify,  their  violence;  and  that,  though 
they  were  rude  even  to  brutality,  they  do  not  appear  to 
have  been  guilty  of  any  intentional  injury  to  life  or  limb.* 

The  disorder  spread  fast.  In  Ayrshire,  Clydesdale, 
Nithisdale,  Annandale,  every  parish  was  visited  by  these 
turbulent  zealots.  About  two  hundred  curates, — so  the 
episcopal  parish  priests  were  called, — were  expelled.  The 
graver  Covenanters,  while  they  applauded  the  fervor  of 
their  riotous  brethren,  were  apprehensive  that  proceedings 
so  irregular  might  give  scandal,  and  learned,  with  especial 
concern,  that  here  and  there  an  Achan  had  disgraced  the 
good  cause  by  stooping  to  plunder  the  Canaanites  whom 
he  ought  only  to  have  smitten.  A  general  meeting  of 
ministers  and  elders  was  called  for  the  purpose  of  pre- 
venting such  discreditable  excesses.  In  this  meeting  it 
was  determined  that,  for  the  future,  the  ejection  of  the 
established  clergy  should  be  performed  in  a  more  ceremo- 
nious manner.  A  form  of  notice  was  drawn  up  and 
served  on  every  curate  in  the  Western  Lowlands  who  had 
not  yet  been  rabbled.  This  notice  was  simply  a  threaten- 
ing letter  commanding  him  to  quit  his  parish  peaceably, 
on  pain  of  being  turned  out  by  force. f 

The  Scottish  bishops,  in  great  dismay,  sent  the  Dean  of 
Glasgow  to  plead  the  cause  of  their  persecuted  Church  at 
Westminster.  The  outrages  committed  by  the  Covenan- 
ters were  in  the  highest  degree  offensive  to  William,  who 
had,  in  the  south  of  the  island,  protected  even  Benedic- 
tines and  Franciscans  from  insult  and  spoliation.  But, 
though  he  iiad  at  the  request  of  a  large  number  of  the  noble- 
men and  gentlemen  of  Scotland,  taken  on  himself  provis- 
ionally the  executive  administration  of  that  kingdom,  the 
means  of  maintaining  order  there  were  not  at  his  com- 
mand. He  had  not  a  single  regiment  north  of  the  Tweed, 
or  indeed  within  many  miles  of  that  river,  It  was  vain 
to  hope  that  mere  words  would  quiet  a  nation  which  had 
not,  in  any  age,  been  very  amenable  to  control,  and  which 
was  now  agitated  by  hopes  and  resentments,  such  as  great 
revolutions, followinggreat  oppressions,  naturally  engender. 

*  An  Account  of  the  Present  Persecution  of  the  Church  in  Scotland,  in  several  Let- 
ters, 1690;  The  Case  of  the  afflicted  Clergy  in  Scotland,  truly  represented,  1690;  Faith- 
ful Contendings  Displayed.    Burnet,  i.  805. 

+  The  form  of  notice  will  be  found  in  the  book  entitled  Faithful  Contendings  Dis-- 
played. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


A  proclamation  was  however  put  forth,  directing  that  all 
people  should  lay  down  their  arms,  and  that,  till  the  Con- 
vention should  have  settled  the  government,  the  clergy  of 
the  Established  Church  should  be  suffered  to  reside  on 
their  cures  without  molestation.  But  this  proclamation, 
not  being  supported  by  troops,  was  little  regarded.  On 
the  very  day  after  it  was  published  at  Glasgow,  the  venerable 
cathedral  of  that  city,  almost  the  only  fine  church  of  the 
middle  ages  which  stands  uninjured  in  Scotland,  was  at- 
tacked by  a  crowd  of  Presbyterians  from  the  meeting 
houses,  with  whom  were  mingled  many  of  their  fiercer 
brethren  from  the  hills.  It  was  a  Sunday:  but  to  rabble 
a  congregation  of  prelatists  was  held  to  be  a  work  of 
necessity  and  mercy.  The  worshippers  were  dispersed, 
beaten,  and  pelted  with  snowballs.  It  w^as  indeed  asserted 
that  some  wounds  were  inflicted  with  much  more  formid- 
able weapons.* 

Edinburgh,  the  seat  of  government,  was  in  a  state  of 
anarchy.  The  Castle,  which  commanded  the  whole  city, 
was  still  held  for  James  by  the  Duke  of  Gordon.  The 
common  people  were  generally  Whigs.  The  College  of 
Justice,  a  great  forensic  society  composed  of  judges,  advo- 
cates, writers  to  the  signet,  and  solicitors,  was  the  strong- 
hold of  Toryism:  for  a  rigid  test  had  during  some  years 
excluded  Presbyterians  from  all  the  departments  of  the 
legal  profession.  The  lawyers,  some  hundreds  in  number, 
formed  themselves  into  a  battalion  of  infantry,  and  for  a 
time  effectually  kept  down  the  multitude.  They  paid, 
however,  so  much  respect  to  William's  authority  as  to  dis- 
band themselves  when  his  proclamation  was  published. 
But  the  example  of  obedience  which  they  had  set  was  not 
imitated.  Scarcely  had  they  laid  down  their  weapons  when 
Covenanters  from  the  west,  who  had  done  all  that  was  to 
be  done  in  the  way  of  pelting  and  hustling  the  curates  of 
their  own  neighborhood,  came  dropping  into  Edinburgh, 
by  tens  and  twenties,  for  the  purpose  of  protecting,  or,  if 
need  should  be,  of  overawing  the  Convention.  Glasgow 
alone  sent  four  hundred  of  these  men.  It  could  hardly 
be  doubted  that  they  were  directed  by  some  leader  of  great 
weight.  They  showed  themselves  little  in  any  public 
place:    but  it  was  known  that   every  cellar  was  filled 

*  Account  of  the  Present  Persecution,  i6qo.  Case  of  the  afflicted  Clergy,  1690;  A  true 
Account  of  that  Interruption  that  wag  made  of  the  service  of  God  on  Sunday  last,  be- 
ing the  17th  of  February,  1689,  signed  by  James  Gibson,  Acting  for  the  Lord  Provost 
of  Glasgow, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


199 


witn  them:  and  it  might  well  be  apprehended  that,  at  the 
first  signal,  they  would  pour  forth  from  their  caverns, 
and  appear  armed  around  the  Parliament  House.* 

It  might  have  been  expected  .  that  every  patriotic  and 
enlightened  Scotchman  would  have  earnestly  desired  to 
see  the  agitation  appeased,  and  some  government  estab- 
lished which  might  be  able  to  protect  property  and  to 
enforce  the  law.  An  imperfect  settlement  which  could  be 
speedily  made  might  well  appear  to  such  a  man  preferable  to 
a  perfect  settlement  which  must  be  the  work  of  time.  Just  at 
this  moment,  however,  a  party,  strong  both  in  numbers 
and  abilities,  raised  a  new  and  most  important  question, 
which  seemed  not  unlikely  to  prolong  fhe  interregnum  till 
the  autumn.  This  party  maintained  that  the  Estates  ought 
not  immediately  to  declare  William  and  Mary  King  and 
Queen,  but  to  propose  to  England  a  treaty  of  union,  and 
to  keep  the  throne  vacant  till  such  a  treaty  should  be  con- 
cluded on  terms  advantageous  to  Scotland,  f 

It  may  seem  strange  that  a  large  portion  of  a  people, 
whose  patriotism,  exhibited,  often  in  a  heroic,  and  some- 
times in  a  comic  form,  has  long  been  proverbial,  should 
have  been  willing,  nay  impatient,  to  surrender  an  inde- 
pendence which  had  been,  through  many  ages,  dearly 
prized  and  manfully  defended.  The  truth  is  that  the 
stubborn  spirit  which  the  arms  of  the  Plantagenets  and 
Tudors  had  been  unable  to  subdue  had  begun  to  yield  to  a 
very  different  kind  of  force.  Custom-houses  and  tariffs 
were  rapidly  doing  what  the  carnage  of  Falkirk  and  Hali- 
don,  of  Flodden,  and  of  Pinkie,  had  failed  to  do.  Scotland 
had  some  experience  of  the  effects  of  a  union.  She  had, 
near  forty  years  before,  been  united  to  England  on  such 
terms  as  England,  flushed  with  conquest,  chose  to  dictate. 
That  union  was  inseparably  associated  in  the  minds  of  the 
vanquishsd  people  with  defeat  and  humiliation.  And  yet 
even  that  union,  cruelly  as  it  had  wounded  the  pride  of  the 
Scots,  had  promoted  their  prosperity.  Cromwell,  with 
wisdom  and  liberality  rare  in  his  age,  had  established  the 
most  complete  freedom  of  trade  between  the  dominant 
and  the  subject  country.  While  he  governed,  no  prohibi- 
tion, no  duty,  impeded  the  transit  of  commodities  from 
any  part  of  the  island  to  any  other.  His  navigation  laws 
imposed  no  restraint  on  the  trade  of  Scotland.  A  Scotch 
vessel  was  at  liberty  to  carry  a  Scotch  cargo  to  Barbadoes, 

♦  Balcarras's  Memoirs;  Mackay's  Memoirs.  t  Burnet,  ii.  ax*  ^ 


200 


HiSTORV    OF  ENGLAND. 


and  to  bring  the  sugars  of  Earbacloes  into  the  port  of 
London.^  The  rule  of  the  Protector,  therefore,  had  been 
propitious  to  the  industry  and  to  the  physical  well-being 
of  the  Scottish  people.  Hating  him  and  cursing  him,  they 
could  not  help  thriving  under  him,  and  often,  during  the 
administration  of  their  legitimate  princes,  looked  back 
with  regret  to  the  golden  days  of  the  usurper.f 

The  Restoration  came,  and  changed  everything.  The 
Scots  regained  their  independence,  and  soon  began  to  find 
that  independence  had  its  discomfort  as  well  as  its  dig- 
nity. The  English  Parliament  treated  them  as  aliens  and 
as  rivals.  A  new  Navigation  Act  put  them  on  almiost  the 
same  footing  with  the  Dutch.  High  duties,  and  in  some 
case  prohibitory  duties,  were  imposed  on  the  products  of 
Scottish  industry.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  a  nation 
eminently  industrious,  shrewd,  and  enterprising,  a  nation 
which,  having  been  long  kept  back  by  a  sterile  soil  and  a 
severe  climate,  was  just  beginning  'to  prosper  in  spite  of 
these  disadvantages,  and  which  found  its  progress  sud- 
denly stopped,  should  think  itself  cruelly  treated.  Yet 
there  v/as  no  help.  Complaint  was  vain.  Retaliation  was 
impossible.  The  sovereign,  even  if  he  had  the  wish,  had 
not  the  power,  to  bear  himself  evenly  between  his  large 
and  his  small  kingdom,  between  the  kingdom  from  which 
he  drew  an  annual  revenue  of  a  million  and  a  half  and  the 
kingdom  from  which  he  drew  an  annual  revenue  of  little 
more  than  sixty  thousand  pounds.  He  dared  neither  to 
refuse  his  assent  to  any  English  law  injurious  to  the  trade 
of  Scotland,  nor  to  give  his  assent  to  any  Scotch  law  inju- 
rious to  the  trade  of  England. 

The  complaints  of  the  Scotch,  however,  were  so  loud 
that  Charles,  in  1667,  appointed  commissioners  to  arrange 


♦  Scobel,  1654,  cap,  9;  and  Oliver's  Ordinance  in  Council  of  the  12th  of  April  in  the 
same  year, 

t  Burnet  and  Fletcher  of  Saltoun  mention  the  prosperity  of  Scotland  under  the  Pro- 
tector, but  ascribe  it  to  a  cause  quite  inadequate  to  the  production  of  such  an  effect. 
"There  was,"  says  Burnet,  ^'a  considerable  force  of  about  seven  or  eight  thousand  men 
kept  in  Scotland.    The  pay  of  the  army  brought  so  much  money  into  the  Kingdom  that 

it  continued  all  that  while  in  a  very  flourishing  state  We  always  reckon  those 

eight  years  of  usurpation  a  time  of  great  peace  and  prosperity."  "During  the  time  of 
the  usurper  Cromwell,"  says  Fletcher,  "we  imagined  ourselves  to  be  in  a  tolerable  con- 
dition with  respect  to  the  last  particular  (trade  and  money)  by  reason  of  that  expense 
which  was  made  in  the  realm  by  those  forces  that  kept  us  in  subjection."  The  true  ex- 
planation of  the  phenomenon  about  which  Burnet  and  Fletcher  blundered  so  grossly  will 
be  found  in  a  pamphlet  entitled,  "Some  seasonable  and  modest  Thoughts  partly  occa- 
sioned by  and  partly  concerning  the  Scotch  East  India  Company,"  Edinburgh,  1696. 
See  the  proceedings  of  the  Wednesday  Club  in  Friday  Street  upon  the  subject  of  a 
Union  with  Scotland,  December  1705.  See  also  the  seventh  Chapter  of  Mr,  Burton's 
valuable  History  of  Scotland. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


'JOt 


the  terms  of  a  commercial  treaty  between  the  two  British 
kingdoms.  The  conferences  were  soon  broken  off;  and  all 
that  passed  while  they  continued  proved  that  there  was 
only  one  way  in  which  Scotland  could  obtain  a  share  of 
the  commercial  prosperity  which  England  at  that  time  en- 
joyed.* The  Scotch  must  become  one  people  with  the 
English.  The  parliament  which  had  hitherto  sate  at  Ed- 
inburgh must  be  incorporated  with  the  Parliament  which 
sate  at  Westminster.  The  sacrifice  could  not  but  be  pain- 
fully felt  by  a  brave  and  haughty  people,  who  had,  during 
twelve  generations,  regarded  the  southern  domination  with 
deadly  aversion,  and  whose  hearts  still  swelled  at  the 
thought  of  the  death  of  Wallace  and  of  the  triumphs  of 
Bruce.  T^ere  were  doubtless  many  punctilious  patriots 
who  would  have  strenuously  opposed  a  union  even  if  they 
could  have  foreseen  that  the  effect  of  a  union  would  be 
to  make  Glasgow  a  greater  city  than  Amsterdam,  and  to 
cover  the  dreary  Lothians  with  harvests  and~  woods,  neat 
farm-houses  and  stately  mansions.  But  there  was  also  a 
large  class  which  was  not  disposed  to  throw  away  great  and 
substantial  advantages  in  order  to  preserve  mere  names 
and  ceremonies;  and  the  influence  of  this  class  was  such 
that,  in  the  year  1670,  the  Scotch  Parliament  made  direct 
overtures  to  England. f  The  King  undertook  the  office  of 
mediator;  and  negotiators  were  named  on  both  sides;  but 
nothing  was  concluded. 

The  question,  having  slept  during  eighteen  years,  was 
suddenly  revived  by  the  Revolution.  Different  classes, 
impelled  by  different  motives,  concurred  on  this  point. 
With  merchants,  ^ager  to  share  in  the  advantages  of  the 
West  Indian  Trade,  w^ere  joined  active  and  aspiring  poli- 
ticians who  wished  to  exhibit  their  abilities  in  a  more  con- 
spicuous theater  than  the  Scottish  Parliament  House,  and 
to  collect  riches  from  a  more  copious  source  than  the 
Scottish  treasury.  The  cry  for  union  was  swelled  by  the 
voices  of  some  artful  Jacobites,  who  merely  wished  to 
cause  discord  and  delay,  and  who  hoped  to  attain  this  end 
by  mixing  up  with  the  difficult  question  which  it  was  the 
especial  business  of  the  Convention  to  settle  another  ques- 
tion more  difficult  still.  It  is  probable  that  some  who  dis- 
liked the  ascetic  habits  and  rigid  discipline  of  the  Presby- 


*  See  the  paper  in  which  the  demands  of  the  Scotch  Commissioners  are  set  foi-th.  It 
will  be  found  in  the  Appendix  to  De  Foe's  History  of  the  Union,  No.  13. 

♦  Act,  Pari.  Scot.,  July  30,  1670^ 


20±  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.  j 

terians,  wished  for  a  union  as  the  only  mode  of  maintain- 
ing prelacy  in  the  northern  part  of  the  island.  In  a  united 
Parliament  the  English  members  must  greatly  preponder- 
ate; and  in  England  the  bishops  were  held  in  high  honor 
by  the  great  majority  of  the  population.  The  Episcopal 
Church  of  Scotland,  it  was  plain,  rested  on  a  narrow  basis, 
and  would  fall  before  the  first  attack.  The  Episcopal 
Church  of  Great  Britain  might  have  a  foundation  broad 
and  solid  enough  to  withstand  all  assaults. 

Whether,  in  1689,  it  would  have  been  possible  to  effect  a 
civil  union  without  a  religious  union  may  well  be  doubted. 
But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  religious  union  would 
have  been  one  of  the  greatest  calamities  that  could  have 
befallen  either  kingdom.  The  union  accomplished  in  1707 
has  indeed  been  a  great  blessing  both  to  England  and  to 
Scotland.  But  it  has  been  a  blessing  because,  in  constitut- 
ing one  State,  it  left  two  churches.  The  political  interest 
of  the  contracting  parties  was  the  same:  but  the  ecclesias- 
tical dispute  between  them  was  one  which  admitted  of  no 
compromise.  They  could  therefore  preserve  harmony  only 
by  agreeing  to  differ.  Had  there  been  an  amalgamation 
of  the  hierarchies,  there  never  would  have  been  an  amalga- 
mation of  the  nations.  Successive  Mitchells  would  have 
fired  at  successive  Sharpes.  Five  generations  of  Claver- 
houses  would  have  butchered  five  generations  of  Came- 
rons.  Those  marvellous  improvements  which  have  changed 
the  face  of  Scotland  would  never  have  been  effected. 
Plains  now  rich  with  harvests  would  have  remained  barren 
moors.  Waterfalls  which  now  turn  the  wheels  of  immense 
factories,  would  have  resounded  in  a  wilderness.  New 
Lanark  would  still  have  been  a  sheep-walk,  and  Greenock 
a  fishing  hamlet.  What  little  strength  Scotland  could, 
under  such  a  system,  have  possessed,  must,  in  an  estimate 
of  the  resources  of  Great  Britain,  have  been,  not  added, 
but  deducted.  So  encumbered,  our  country  never  could 
have  held,  either  in  peace  or  in  war,  a  place  in  the  first 
rank  of  nations.  We  are  unfortunately  not  without  the 
means  of  judging  of  the  effect  which  may  be  produced  on 
the  moral  and  physical  state  of  a  people  by  establishing, 
in  the  exclusive  enjoyment  of  riches  and  dignity,  a  Church 
loved  and  reverenced  only  by  the  few,  and  regarded  by  the 
many  with  religious  and  national  aversion.  One  such 
Church  is  quite  burden  enough  for  the  energies  ot  one 
empire. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


But  these  things,  which  to  us,  who  have  been  taught  by 
a  bitter  experience,  seem  clear,  were  by  no  means  clear  in 
1689,  even  to  very  tolerant  and  enlightened  politicians.  In 
truth  the  English  Low  Churchmen  were,  if  possible,  more 
anxious  than  the  English  High  Churchmen  to  preserve 
Episcopacy  in  Scotland.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  Bur- 
net, who  was  always  accused  of  wishing  to  establish  the 
Calvinistic  discipline  in  the  south  of  the  island,  incurred 
great  unpopularity  among  his  own  countrymen  by  his  ef- 
forts to  uphold  prelacy  in  the  north.  He  was  doubtless  in 
error:  but  his  error  is  to  be  attributed  to  a  cause  which 
does  him  no  discredit.  His  favorite  object,  an  object  un- 
attainable indeed,  yet  such  as  might  well  fascinate  a  large 
intellect  and  a  benevolent  heart,  had  long  been  an  honor- 
able treaty  between  the  Anglican  Church  and  the  Non- 
conformists. He  thought  it  most  unfortunate  that  one  op- 
portunity of  concluding  such  a  treaty  should  have  been 
lost  at  the  time  of  the  Restoration.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
another  opportunity  was  afforded  by  the  Revolution.  He 
and  his  friends  were  eagerly  pushing  forward  Notting- 
ham's Comprehension  Bill,  and  were  flattering  themselves 
with  vain  hopes  of  success.  But  they  felt  that  there  could 
hardly  be  a  Comprehension  in  one  of  the  two  British  king- 
doms, unless  there  were  also  a  Comprehension  in  the  other. 
Concession  must  be  purchased  by  concession.  If  the  Pres- 
byterian pertinaciously  refused  to  listen  to  any  terms  of 
compromise  where  he  was  strong,  it  would  be  almost  im- 
possible to  obtain  for  him  liberal  terms  of  compromise 
where  he  was  weak.  Bishops  must  therefore  be  allowed 
to  keep  their  sees  in  Scotland,  in  order  that  divines  not 
ordained  by  bishops  might  be  allowed  to  hold  rectories 
and  canonries  in  England. 

Thus  the  cause  of  the  Episcopalians  in  the  north  and  the 
cause  of  the  Presbyterians  in  the  south  were  bound  up  to- 
gether in  a  manner  which  might  well  perplex  even  a  skill- 
ful statesman.  It  was  happy  for  our  country  that  the 
momentous  question  which  excited  so  many  strong  pas- 
sions, and  which  presented  itself  in  so  many  different 
points  of  views,  was  to  be  decided  by  such  a  man  as  Wil- 
liam. He  listened  to  Episcopalians,  to  Latitudinarians,  to 
Presbyterians,  to  the  Dean  of  Glasgow,  who  pleaded  for  the 
apostolic  succession,  to  Burnet,  who  represented  the  danger 
of  alienating  the  Anglican  clergy,  to  Carstairs  who  hated 
pnelaey  with  the  hatr^ct  of  a  mm  who^e  thumbs  were 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


deeply  marked  by  the  screws  of  prelatists.  Surrounded  by 
these  eager  advocates,  William  remained  calm  and  im- 
partial. He  was  indeed  eminently  qualified  by  his  situa- 
tion as  well  as  by  his  personal  qualities  to  be  the  umpire  in 
that  great  contention.  He  was  the  King  of  a  prelatica] 
kingdom.  He  was  the  Prime  Minister  of  a  Presbyterian 
republic.  His  unwillingness  to  offend  the  Anglican  Church 
of  which  he  was  the  head,  and  his  unwillingness  to  offend 
the  reformed  churches  of  the  continent  which  regarded 
him  as  a  champion  divinely  sent  to  protect  them  against 
the  French  tyranny,  balanced  each  other,  and  kept  him 
from  leaning  unduly  to  either  side.  His  conscience  was 
perfectly  neutral.  For  it  was  his  deliberate  opinion  that 
no  form  of  ecclesiastical  polity  was  of  divine  institution. 
He  dissented  equally  from  the  school  of  Laud  and  from 
the  school  of  Cameron,  from  the  men  who  held  there  could 
not  be  a  Christian  Church  without  bishops,  and  from  the 
men  who  held  that  there  could  not  be  a  Christian  Church 
without  synods.  Which  form  of  government  should  be 
adopted  was  in  his  judgment  a  question  of  mere  expe- 
diency. He  would  probably  have  preferred  a  temper  be- 
tween the  two  rival  systems,  a  hierarchy  in  which  the  chief 
spiritual  functionaries  should  have  been  something  more 
than  moderators  and  something  less  than  prelates.  But  he 
was  far  too  wise  a  man  to  think  of  settling  such  a  matter 
according  to  his  own  personal  tastes.  He  determined 
therefore  that,  if  there  was  on  both  sides  a  disposition  to 
compromise,  he  would  act  as  mediator.  But,  if  it  should 
appear  that  the  public  mind  of  England  and  the  public 
mind  of  Scotland  had  taken  the  ply  strongly  in  opposite 
directions,  he  would  not  attempt  to  force  either  nation  into 
conformity  with  the  opinion  of  the  other.  He  would  suf- 
fer each  to  have  its  own  church,  and  would  content  him- 
self with  restraining  both  churches  from  persecuting  non- 
conformists, and  from  encroaching  on  the  functions  of  the 
civil  magistrate. 

The  language  which  he  held  to  those  Scottish  Episcopa- 
lians who  complained  to  him  of  their  sufferings  and  im- 
plored his  protection  was  well  weighed  and  well  guarded, 
but  clear  and  ingenuous.  He  wished,  he  said,  to  preserve, 
if  possible,  the  institution  to  which  they  were  so  much  at- 
tached, and  to  grant,  at  the  same  time,  entire  liberty  of 
conscience  to  that  party  which  could  not  be  reconcile  to 
any  deviation    from  the  Presbyterian  model.    But  ihe 


WILLIAM  AHD  MARY. 


205 


bishops  must  take  care  that  they  did  not,  by  their  own 
rashness  and  obstinacy,  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  be  of 
any  use  to  them.  They  must  also  distinctly  understand 
that  he  was  resolved  not  to  force  on  Scotland  by  the  sword 
a  form  of  ecclesiastical  government  which  she  detested. 
If,  therefore,  it  should  be  found  that  prelacy  could  be 
maintained  only  by  arms,  he  should  yield  to  the  general 
sentiment,  and  should  merely  do  his  best  to  obtain  for  the 
Episcopalian  minority  permission  to  worship  God  in  free- 
dom and  safety.* 

It  is  not  likely  that,  even  if  the  Scottish  bishops  had,  as 
William  recommended,  done  all  that  meekness  and  pru- 
dence could  do  to  conciliate  their  countrymen,  episcopacy 
could,  under  any  modification,  have  been  maintained.  It 
was  indeed  asserted  by  writers  of  that  generation,  and  has 
been  repeated  by  writers  of  our  generation,  that  the 
Presbyterians  were  not,  before  the  revolution,  the  majority 
of  the  people  of  Scotland. f  But  in  this  assertion  there  is 
an  obvious  fallacy.  The  effective  strength  of  sects  is  not 
to  be  ascertained  merely  by  counting  heads.  An  estab- 
lished church,  a  dominant  church,  a  church  which  has  the 
exclusive  possession  of  civil  honors  and  emoluments,  will 
always  rank  among  its  nominal  members  multitudes  who 
have  no  religion  at  all;  multitudes  who,  though  not  desti- 
tute of  religion,  attend  little  to  theological  disputes,  and 
have  no  scruple  about  conforming  to  the  mode  of  worship 
which  happens  to  be  established;  and  multitudes  who 
have  scruples  about  conforming,  but  whose  scruples  have 
yielded  to  worldly  motives.  On  the  other  hand,  every 
member  of  an  oppressed  church  is  a  man  who  has  a  very 
decided  preference  for  that  church.  Every  person  who,  in 
the  time  of  Diocletian,  joined  in  celebrating  the  Christian 
mysteries  might  reasonably  be  supposed  to  be  a  firm  be- 
liever in  Christ.  But  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  one 
single  Pontiff  or  Augur  in  the  Roman  Senate  was  a  firm 
believer  in  Jupiter.  In  Mary's  reign,  everybody  who  at- 
tended the  secret  meetings  of  the  Protestants  was  a  real 
Protestant:  but  hundreds  of  thousands  went  to  mass  who, 
as  appeared  before  she  had  been  dead  a  month,  were  not 

*  Burnet,  ii.  23 

t  See,  for  example,  a  pamphlet  entitled  ''Some  questions  resolved  concerning  Episco- 
pal and  Presbyterian  government  in  Scotland,  1690."  One  of  the  questions  is.  whether 
Scottish  presbytery  be  agreeable  to  the  general  inclinations  of  that  people.  The  author 
answers  the  question  in  the  negative,  on  the  ground  that  the  upper  and  middle  classes  had 
generally  coaformcd  to  the  Episcopal  Church  before  the  Revolution. 


2o6 


HISTORY  OF  KNGLANDo 


real  Roman  Catholics.  If,  under  the  kings  of  the  House 
of  Stuart,  when  a  Presbyterian  was  excluded  from  political 
power  and  from  the  learned  professions,  was  daily  annoyed 
by  informers,  by  tyrannical  magistrates,  by  licentious 
dragoons,  and  was  in  danger  of  being  hanged  if  he  heaid 
a  sermon  in  the  open  air,  the  population  of  Scotland  was 
not  very  unequally  divided  between  Episcopalians  and 
Presbyterians,  the  rational  inference  is  that  more  than 
nineteen-twentieths  of  those  Scotchmen  whose  conscience 
was  interested  in  the  matter  were  Presbyterians,  and  that 
the  Scotchmen,  who  were  decidedly  and  on  conviction 
Episcopalians,  were  a  small  minority.  Against  such  odds 
the  bishops  had  but  little  chance;  and  whatever  chance 
they  had  they  made  haste  to  throw  away;  some  of  them 
because  they  sincerely  believed  that  their  allegiance  was 
still  due  to  James;  others  probably  because  they  appre- 
hended that  William  would  not  have  the  power,  even  if 
he  had  the  will,  to  serve  them,  and  that  nothing  but  a 
counter  revolution  in  the  State  could  avert  a  revolution  in 
the  Church. 

As  the  new  King  of  England  could  not  be  at  Edinburgh 
during  the  sitting  of  the  Scottish  Convention,  a  letter  from 
him  to  the  Estates  was  prepared  with  great  skill.  In  this 
document  he  professed  warm  attachment  to  the  Protestant 
religion,  but  gave  no  opinion  touching  thcfse  questions 
about  which  Protestants  were  divided.  He  had  observed, 
he  said,  with  great  satisfaction  that  many  of  the  Scottish 
nobility  and  gentry  with  whom  he  had  conferred  in  Lon- 
don were  inclined  to  a  union  of  the  two  British  kingdoms- 
He  was  sensible  how  much  such  a  union  would  conduce 
to  the  happiness  of  both;  and  he  would  do  all  in  his  power 
towards  the  accomplishing  of  so  good  a  work. 

It  was  necessary  that  he  should  allow  a  large  discretion 
to  his  confidential  agents  at  Edinburgh.  The  private  in- 
structions with  which  he  furnished  those  persons  could 
not  be  minute,  but  were  highly  judicious.  He  charged 
them  to  ascertain  to  the  be^t  of  their  power  the  real  sense 
of  the  Convention,  and  to  be  guided  by  it.  They  must  re- 
member that  the  first  object  was  to  settle  the  government. 
To  that  object  every  other  object,  even  the  union,  must  be 
postponed.  A  treaty  between  two  independent  legislatures, 
distant  from  each  other  several  days'  journey,  must  neces- 
sarily be  a  work  of  time;  and  the  throne  could  not  safely 
remain  vacant  while  the  negotiations  were  pending.    It  was 


William  and  maiiy. 


therefore  important  that  His  Hajesty's  agents  should  be 
on  their  guard  against  the  arts  of  persons  who,  under  pre- 
tence of  promoting  the  union,  might  really  be  contriving 
only  to  prolong  the  interregnum.  If  the  Convention  should 
be  bent  on  establishing  the  Presbyterian  form  of  church 
government,  William  desired  that  his  friends  would  do  all 
in  their  power  to  prevent  the  triumphant  sect  from  recali- 
ting  what  it  had  suffered.* 

The  person  by  whose  advice  William  appears  to  have 
been  at  this  time  chiefly  guided  as  to  Scotch  politics  was  a 
Scotchman  of  great  abilities  and  attainments,  Sir  James 
Dalrymple,  of  Stair,  the  founder  of  a  family  eminently  dis- 
tinguished at  the  bar*,  on  the  bench,  in  the  Senate,  in  dip- 
lomacy, in  arms,  and  in  letters,  but  distinguished  also  by 
misfortunes  and  misdeeds  which  have  furnished  poets  and 
novelists  with  materials  for  the  darkest  and  most  heart- 
rending tales.  Already  Sir  James  had  been  in  mourning 
for  more  than  one  strange  and  terrible  death.  One  of  his 
sons  had  died  by  poison.  One  of  his  daughters  had  pon- 
iarded her  bridegroom  on  the  wedding  night.  One  of  his 
grandsons  had  in  boyish  sport  been*  slain  by  another. 
Savage  libellers  asserted,  and  some  of  the  superstitious 
vulgar  believed,  that  calamities  so  portentous  were  the 
consequences  of  some  connection  between  the  unhappy 
race  and  the  powers  of  darkness.  Sir  James  had  a  wry  neck; 
and  he  was  reproached  with  this  misfortune  as  if  it  had  been 
a  crime,  and  was  told  that  it  marked  him  out  as  a  man 
doomed  to  the  gallows.  His  wife,  a  woman  of  great  ability, 
art,  and  spirit,  was  popularly  nicknamed  the  Witch  of  En- 
dor.  It  was  gravely  said  that  she  had  cast  fearful  spells 
on  those  whom  she  hated,  and  that  she  had  been  seen  in 
the  likeness  of  a  cat  seated  on  the  cloth  of  state  by  the 
side  of  the  Lord  High  Commissioner.  The  man,  however, 
over  whose  roof  so  many  curses  appeared  to  hang,  did  not,  as 
far  as  we  can  now  judge,  fall  short  of  that  very  low  standard 
of  morality  which  was  generally  attained  by  politicians  of 
his  age  and  nation.  In  force  of  mind  and  extent  of  knowl- 
edge he  was  superior  to  them  all.  In  his  youth  he  had 
borne  arms:  he  had  then  been  a  professor  of  philosophy: 
he  had  then  studied  law,  and  had  become,  by  general  ac- 

*The  instructions  are  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  papers.  They  bear  date  March  7, 
i688~9.  On  the  first  occasion  on  which  I  quote  this  most  valuable  collection,  I  cannot 
refrain  from  acknowledging  the  obligations  under  which  T,  and  all  who  bake  an  interest 
in  the  history  of  our  island,  lie  to  the  gentleman  who  has  performed  so  well  the  duty  of 
an  editor. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAl^B. 


knowledgment,  the  greatest  jurist  that  his  country  had 
produced.  In  the  days  of  the  Protectorate,  he  had  been 
a  judge.  After  the  Restoration,  he  had  made  his  peace 
with  the  royal  family,  had  sate  in  the  Privy  Council,  and 
had  presided  with  unrivalled  ability  in  the  Court  of  Ses- 
sion. He  had-  doubtless  borne  a  share  in  many  unjustifi- 
able acts:  but  there  were  limits  which  he  never  passed. 
He  had  a  wonderful  power  of  giving  to  any  proposition 
which  it  suited  him  to  niaintain  a  plausible  aspect  of  legal- 
ity and  even  of  justice;  and  this  power  he  frequently 
abused.  But  he  was  not,  like  many  of  those  among  whom 
he  lived,  impudently  and  unscrupulously  servile.  Shame 
and  conscience  generally  restrained  him  from  committing 
any  bad  action  for  which  his  rare  ingenuity  could  not 
frame  a  specious  defence;  and  he  was  seldom  in  his  place 
at  the  council  boards  when  anything  outrageously  unjust 
or  cruel  was  to  be  done.  His  moderation  at  length  gave 
offence  to  the  Court.  He  was  deprived  of  his  high  office, 
and  found  himself  in  so  disagreeable  a  situation  that  he 
retired  to  Holland.  There  he  employed  himself  in  cor- 
recting the  great  work  on  jurisprudence  w^hich  has  pre- 
served his  memory  fresh  down  to  our  own  time.  In  his 
banishment  he  tried  to  gain  the  favor  of  his  fellow  exiles, 
who  naturally  regarded  him  with  suspicion.  He  pro- 
tested, and  perhaps  with  truth,  that  his  hands  were  pure 
from  the  blood  of  the  persecuted  Covenanters.  He  made  a 
high  profession  of  religion,  prayed  much,  and  observed 
weekly  days  of  fasting  and  humiliation.  He  even  con- 
sented, after  much  hesitation,  to  assist  with  his  advice  and 
his  credit  the  unfortunate  enterprise  of  Argyle.  When 
that  enterprise  had  failed,  a  prosecution  was  instituted  at 
Edinburgh  against  D^lrymple;  and  his  estates  would 
doubtless  have  been  confiscated,  had  they  not  been  saved 
by  an  artifice  which  subsequently  became  common  among 
the  politicians  of  Scotland.  His  eldest  son  and  heir  appar- 
ent, John,  took  the  side  of  the  government,  supported  the 
dispensing  power,  declared  against  the  Test,  and  accepted 
the  place  of  Lord  Advocate,  when  Sir  George  Mackenzie, 
after  holding  out  through  ten  years  of  foul  drudgery,  at 
length  showed  signs  of  flagging.  The  services  of  the 
younger  Dairy mple  were  rewarded  by  a  remission  of  the 
forfeiture  which  the  offences  of  the  elder  had  incurred. 
Those  services  indeed  were  not  to  be  despised.  For  Sir 
John,  though  inferior  to  his  fiither  in  depth  and  extent  of 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


209 


legal  learning,  was  no  common  man.  His  knowledge  was 
great  and  various:  his  parts  were  quick;  and  his  eloquence 
was  singularly  ready  and  graceful.  To  sanctity  he  made 
no  pretensions.  Indeed  Episcopalians  and  Presbyterians 
agreed  in  regarding  him  as  little  better  than  an  atheist. 
During  some  months  Sir  John  at  Edinburgh  affected  to 
condemn  the  disloyalty  of  his  unhappy  parent,  Sir  James; 
and  Sir  James,  at  Leyden,  told  his  Puritan  friends  hov/ 
deeply  he  lamented  the  wicked  compliances  of  his  unhappy 
child  Sir  John. 

The  Revolution  came,  and  brought  a  large  increase  of 
wealth  and  honors  to  the  House  of  Stair.  The  son 
promptly  changed  sides,  and  co-operated  ably  and  zeal- 
ously with  the  father.  Sir  Ja'mes  established  himself  in 
London  for  the  purpose  of  giving  advice  to  William  on 
Scotch  affairs.  Sir  John's  post  was  in  the  Parliament 
House  at  Edinburgh.  He  was  not  likely  to  find  any  equal 
among  the  debaters  there,  and  was  prepared  to  exert  all 
his  powers  against  the  dynasty  which  he  had  lately 
served.* 

By  the  large  party  which  was  zealous  for  the  Calvinistic 
church  government  John  Dalrymple  was  regarded  with 
incurable  distrust  and  dislike.  It  was  therefore  necessary 
that  another  agent  should  be  employed  to  manage  that 
party.  Such  an  agent  was  George  Melville,  Lord  Melville, 
a  nobleman  connected  by  affinity  with  the  unfortunate 
Monmouth,  and  with  that  Leslie  who  had,  in  1640,  invaded 
England  at  the  head  of  a  Scottish  army.  Melville  had  al- 
ways been  accounted  a  Whig  and  a  Presbyterian.  Those 
who  speak  of  him  most  favorably  have  not  ventured  to 
ascribe  to  him  eminent  intellectual  endowment  or  exalted 
public  spirit.  But  he  appears  from  his  letters  to  have  been 
by  no  means  deficient  in  that  homely  prudence  the  want 
of  which  has  often  been  fatal  to  men  of  brighter  genius  and  of 
purer  virtue.  That  prudence  had  restrained  him  from  go- 
ing very  far  in  opposition  to  the  tyranny  of  the  Stuarts: 
but  he  had  listened  while  his  friends  talked  about  resist- 
ance, and  therefore,  when  the  Rye  House  Plot  was  dis- 
covered, thought  it  expedient  to  retire  to  the  continent.  Tn 

*  As  to  the  Dalrymples,  see  the  Lord  President's  own  writings,  and  among  them  his 
Vindication  of  the  Divine  Perfecti  ■>  :  V  '-i  av's  Analecta;  Douglas's  Peerage;  Lock- 
hart's  Memoirs;  the  Satyre  on  tiK  <  if  Stairs;  the  Satyric  iiines  upon  the  long 
wished  for  and  timely  Death  of  the  i  ;  :  ;  ■  >i]o;'r.;bIe  Lady  Stairs;  Law's  Memoria4s; 
and  the  Hyndford  Papers,  written  in  i  t*;  ;-?,  and  printed  with  the  Letters  of  Carstairs. 
Lockhart,  though  a  mortal  enemy  of  John  Dalrymple,  says,  "There  was  none  in  thi? 
pailiament  capable  to  take  up  the  cudgels  with  hin*. 


210 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


his  absence  he  was  accused  of  treason,  and  was  convicted 
on  evidence  which  would  not  have  satisfied  any  impartial 
tribunal.  He  was  condemned  to  death:  his  honor  and 
lands  were  declared  forfeit:  his  arms  were  torn  with  con- 
tumely out  of  the  Heralds'  Book;  and  his  domains  swelled 
the  estate  of  the  cruel  and  rapacious  Perth.  The  fugitive, 
meanwhile,  with  characteristic  wariness,  lived  quietly  on 
the  Continent,  and  discountenanced  the  unhappy  pro- 
jects of  his  kinsman  Monmouth,  but  cordially  approved  of 
the  enterprise  of  the  Prince  of  Orange. 

Illness  had  prevented  Melville  from  sailing  with  the 
Dutch  expedition:  but  he  arrived  in  London  a  .  few  hours 
after  the  new  Sovereigns  had  been  proclaimed  there. 
William  instantly  sent  him  down  to  Edinburgh,  in  the 
hope,  as  it  should  seem,  that  the  Presbyterians  would  be 
disposed  to  listen  to  moderate  counsels  proceeding  from  a 
man  who  was  attached  to  their  cause,  and  who  had  suffered 
for  it.  Melville's  second  son,  David,  who  had  inherited, 
through  his  mother,  the  title  of  Earl  of  Leven,  and  who 
had  acquired  some  military  experience  in  the  service  of  the 
Elector  of  Brandenburgh,  had  the  honor  of  being  the 
bearer  of  a  letter  from  the  new  King  of  England  to  the 
Scottish  Convention."* 

James  had  entrusted  the  conduct  of  his  affairs  in  Scot- 
land to  John  Graham,  Viscount  Dundee  and  Colin  Lind- 
say, Earl  of  Balcarras.  Dundee  had  commanded  a  body 
of  Scottish  troops  which  had  marched  into  England  to 
oppose  the  Dutch:  but  he  had  found,  in  the  inglorious  cam- 
paign which  had  been  fatal  to  the  dynasty  of  Stuart,  no 
opportunity  of  displaying  the  courage  and  military  skill 
which  those  who  most  detest  his  merciless  nature  al- 
low him  to  have  possessed.  He  lay  with  his  forces  not 
far  from  Watford,  when  he  was  informed  that  James  had 
fled  from  Whitehall  and  that  Feversham  had  ordered  all 
the  royal  army  to  disband.  The  Scottish  regiments  were 
thus  left,  without  pay  or  provisions,  in  the  midst  of  a 
foreign  and  indeed  a  hostile  nation.  Dundee,  it  is  said, 
wept  with  grief  and  rage.  Soon,  however,  more  cheering 
intelligence  arrived  from  various  quarters.  William 
wrote  a  few  lines  to  say  that,  if  the  Scots  would  remain 
quiet,  he  would  pledge  his  honor  for  tlieir  safety;  and, 
some  hours  later,  it  was  known  that  James  bad  returned 

*  As  to  Melville, see  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers, and  the  prelacc;  the  Act 
Pari.  Scot.,  June  i6,  1685;  and  the  Appendix.  1""^;  13,  Eyrnet,  ii.  24:  apd  the  Pwmet 
MS,  Harl,  6§&^ 


William  and  mary. 


211 


to  his  capital.  Dundee  repaired  instantly  to  London.* 
There  he  met  his  friend  Balcarras,  who  had  just  arrived 
from  Edinburgh.  Balcarras,  a  man  distinguished  by  his 
handsome  person  and  by  his  accomplishments,  had,  in  his 
youth,  affected  the  character  of  a  patriot,  but  had  deserted 
the  popular  cause,  had  accepted  a  seat  in  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil, had  become  a  tool  of  Perth  and  Melfort,  and  had  been 
one  of  the  commissioners  who  were  appointed  to  execute 
the  office  of  Treasurer,  when  Queensbury  was  disgraced 
for  refusing  to  betray  the  interests  of  the  Protestant  re- 
ligion.f 

Dundee  and  Balcarras  went  together  to  Whitehall,  and 
had  the  honor  of  accompanying  James  in  his  last  walk  up 
and  down  the  Mall.  He  told  them  that  he  intended  to  put 
his  affairs  in  Scotland  under  their  management.  ^'You,  my 
Lord  Balcarras,  must  undertake  the  civil  business:  and 
you,  my  Lord  Dundee,  shall  have  a  commission  from  me 
to  command  the  troops."  The  two  noblemen  vowed  that 
they  would  prove  themselves  deserving  of  his  confidence, 
and  disclaimed  all  thought  of  making  their  peace  with  the 
Prince  of  Orange.J 

On  the  following  day  James  left  Whitehall  forever;  and 
the  Prince  of  Orange  arrived  at  Saint  James's.  Both  Dun- 
dee and  Balcarras  swelled  the  crowd  which  thronged  to 
greet  the  deliverer,  and  were  not  ungraciously  received. 
Both  were  well  known  to  him.  Dundee  had  served  under 
him  on  the  continent;§  and  the  first  wife  of  Balcarras  had 
been  a  lady  of  the  House  of  Orange,  and  had  worn  on 


*  Creichton's  Memoirs.  +  Mackay's  Memoirs. 

$  Memoirs  of  the  Lindsays. 

§  About  the  early  relation  between  William  and  Dundee,  some  Jacobite,  many  years 
after  they  were  both  dead,  invented  a  story  which  by  successive  embellishments  was  at 
last  improved  into  a  romance  such  as  it  seems  strange  that  even  a  child  should  believe 
to  be  true.  The  last  edition  runs  thus;  William's  horse  was  killed  under  him  at  Seneff, 
and  his  life  was  in  imminent  danger.  Dundee,  then  Captain  Graham,  mounted  His 
Highness  again.  William  promised  to  reward  this  service  with  promotion,  but  broke  his 
word,  and  gave  to  another  the  commission  which  Graham  had  been  led  to  expect.  The 
injured  hero  went  to  Loo.  There  he  met  his  successful  competitor  and  gave  him  a  box 
an  the  ear.  The  punishment  for  striking  in  the  palace  was  the  loss  of  the  offending  right 
hand;  but  this  punishment  the  Prince  of  Orange  ungraciously  remitted.  ''You,"  he 
said,  "saved  my  life;  I  spare  your  right  hand;  and  now  we  are  quits." 

Those  who,  down  to  our  time,  have  repeated  this  nonsense  seem  to  have  thought, 
first,  that  the  Act  of  Henry  the  Eighth  ''for  punishment  of  murder  and  malicious  blood- 
shed within  the  King's  Court"  (Stat.  33  Hen.VIIL  c,  2)  was  law  in  Guelders;  and,  seoond- 
1)^,  that,  in  1674,  William  was  a  King,  and  his  house  a  King's  Court.  They  were  also 
not  aware  tkat  he  did  not  purchase  Loo  till  long  after  Dundee  had  left  the  Netherlands. 
See  Harris's  Description  of  Loo,  1699. 

This  legend,  of  which  I  have  not  been  able  to  discover  the  slightest  trace  in  the  volu- 
minous Jacobite  literature  of  William's  reign,  seems  to  have  originated  about  a  quarter 
iDf  a  oentury  after  Dundee's  death,  and  to  have  attained  its  full  absurdity  in  another 
quarter  of  a  century. 


612 


HISTOPY  OF  ENGLAND. 


her  wedding  day,  a  superb  pair  of  emerald  earrings,  tbe 
gift  of  her  cousin  the  Prince.* 

The  Scottish  Whigs,  then  assembled  in  great  uumbers  at 
Westminster,  earnestly  pressed  William  to  proscribe  by 
name  four  or  five  men  who  had,  during  the  evil  times, 
borne  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  proceedings  of  the  Privy 
Council  at  Edinburgh.  Dundee  and  Balcarras  were  partic- 
ularly mentioned.  But  the  Prince  had  determined  that, 
as  far  as  his  power  extended,  all  the  past  should  be 
covered  with  a  general  amnesty,  and  absolutely  refused  to 
make  any  declaration  which  could  drive  to  despair  even 
the  most  guilty  of  his  uncle's  servants. 

Balcarras  went  repeatedly  to  Saint  James's,  had  several 
audiences  of  William,  professed  deep  respect  for  His  High- 
ness, and  owned  that  King  James  had  committed  great  er- 
rors, but  would  not  promise  to  concur  in  a  vote  of  deposi- 
tion. William  gave  no  signs  of  displeasure,  but  said  at 
parting:  ^'Take  care,  my  Lord,  that  you  keep  within  the 
law;  for,  if  you  break  it,  you  must  expect  to  be  left 
to  it."f 

Dundee  seems  to  have  been  less  ingenuous.  He  em.- 
ployed  the  mediation  of  Burnet,  opened  a  negotiation  with 
Saint  James's,  declared  himself  willing  to  acquiesce  in  the 
new  order  of  things,  obtained  from  William  a  promise  of 
protection,  and  promised  in  return  to  live  peaceably.  Such 
credit  was  given  to  his  professions,  that  he  was  suffered  to 
travel  down  to  Scotland  under  the  escort  of  a  troop  of 
cavalry.  Without  such  an  escort  the  man  of  blood,  whose 
name  was  never  mentioned  but  with  h  shudder  at  the 
hearth  of  any  Presbyterian  family,  would,  at  that  conjunc- 
ture, have  had  but  a  perilous  journey  through  Berwick- 
shire and  the  Lothians.J 

February  was  drawing  to  a  close  when  Dundee  and  Bal- 
carras reached  Edinburgh.  They  had  some  hope  that  they 
might  be  at  the  hea'd  of  a  majority  in  the  Convention. 
They  therefore  exerted  themselves  vigorously  to  consoli- 
date and  animate  their  party.  They  assured  the  rigid 
royalists,  who  had  a  scruple  about  sitting  in  an  assembly 
convoked  by  an  usurper,  that  the  rightful  King  particularly 
wished  no  friend  of  hereditary  monarchy  to  be  absent. 
More  than  one  waverer  was  kept  steady  by  being  assured, 
in  confident  terms,  that  a  speedy  restoration  was  inevita- 


*  Memoirs  of  the  Lindsays.  t  Memoirs  of  the  Lindsays. 

t  Burnet,  ii,  22;  Memoirs  of  the  Lindsays, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


able.  Gordon  had  determined  to  surrender  the  CastH,  and 
had  begun  to  remove  his  furniture:  but  Dundee  and  Bal- 
carras  prevailed  on  him  to  hold  out  some  time  longer. 
They  informed  him  that  they  had  received  from  Saint  Ger- 
mains  full  powers  to  adjourn  the  Convention  to  Stirling, 
and  that,  if  things  went  ill  at  Edinburgh,  those  powers 
would  be  used.* 

At  length  the  fourteenth  of  March,  the  day  fixed  for  the 
meeting  of  the  Estates,  arrived,  and  the  Parliament  House, 
was  crowded.  Nine  prelates  were  in  their  places.  When 
Argyle  presented  himself,  a  single  lord  protested  against 
the  admission  of  a  person  whom  a  legal  sentence,  passed 
in  due  form  and  still  unreversed,  had  deprived  of  the  hon- 
ors of  the  peerage.  But  this  objection  was  overruled  by 
the  general  sense  of  the  assembly.  When  Melville  ap- 
peared, no  voice  was  raised  against  his  admission.  The 
Bishop  of  Edinburgh  officiated  as  chaplain,  and  made  it 
one  of  his  petitions  that  God  would  help  and  restore  King 
James. f  It  soon  appeared  that  the  general  feeling  of  the 
Convention  was  by  no  means  in  harmony  with  this  prayer. 
The  first  matter  to  be  decided  was  the  choice  of  a  presi- 
dent. The  Duke  of  Hamilton  was  supported  by  the  Whigs, 
the  Marquess  of  Athol  by  the  Jacobites.  Neither  candi- 
date possessed,  and  neither  deserved,  the  entire  confidence 
of  his  supporters.  Hamilton  had  been  a  Privy  Councillor 
of  James,  had  borne  a  part  in  many  unjustifiable  acts,  and 
had  offered  but  a  very  cautious  and  languid  opposition  to 
the  most  daring  attacks  on  the  laws  and  religion  of  Scot- 
land. Not  till  the  Dutch  guards  were  at  Whitehall  had  he 
ventured  to  speak  out.  Then  he  had  joined  the  victorious 
party,  and  had  assured  the  Whigs  that  he  had  pretended 
to  be  their  enemy,  only  in  order  that  he  might,  without  in- 
curring suspicion,  act  as  their  friend.  Athol  was  still  less 
to  be  trusted.  His  abilities  were  mean,  his  temper  false, 
pusillanimous,  and  cruel.  In  the  late  reign  he  had  gained 
a  dishonorable  notoriety  by  the  barbarous  actions  of  which 
he  had  been  guilty  in  Argyleshire.  He  had  turned  with 
the  turn  of  fortune,  and  had  paid  servile  court  to  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  but  had  been  coldly  received,  and  had 
now,  from  mere  mortification,  come  back  to  the  party 


*  Balcarras's  Memoirs. 

t  Act  Pari,  Scot.,  Mar.  14,  1689;  History  of  the  late  Revolution  in  Scotland,  1690;  Au 
Account  of  the  Proceedings  of  the  Estates  of  Scotland,  fol.  Lond.  1689, 


iiiSTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


which  he  had  deserted.*  Neither  of  the  rival  noblemeft 
had  chosen  to  stake  the  dignities  and  lands  of  his  house  on 
the  issue  of  the  contention  between  the  rival  kings.  The  f 
eldest  son  of  Hamilton  had  declared  for  James,  and  the 
eldest  son  of  Athol  for  William,  so  that,  in  any  event,  both 
coronets  and  both  estates  were  safe. 

But  in  Scotland  the  fashionable  notions  touching  politi- 
cal morality  were  lax;  and  the  aristocratical  sentiment  was 
•strong.  The  Whigs  were  therefore  willing  to  forget  that 
Hamilton  had  lately  sate  in  the  council  of  James.  The 
Jacobites  were  equally  willing  to  forget  that  Athol  had 
lately  fawned  on  William.  In  political  inconsistency  those 
two  great  lords  were  far  indeed  from  standing  by  them- 
selves: but  in  dignity  and  power  they  had  scarcely  an 
equal  in  the  assembly.  Their  descent  was  eminently  illus- 
trious: their  influence  was  immense:  one  of  them  could 
raise  the  Western  Lowlands;  the  other  could  bring  into 
the  field  an  army  of  northern  mountaineers.  Round  these 
chiefs  therefore  the  hostile  factions  gathered. 

The  votes  were  counted;  and  it  appeared  that  Hamilton 
had  a  majority  of  forty.  The  consequence  was  that  about 
forty  of  the  defeated  party  instantly  passed  over  to  the  vic- 
tors.f  At  Westminster  such  a  defection  would  have  been 
thought  strange:  but  it  seems  to  have  caused  little  surprise 
at  Edinburgh.  It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that  the 
same  country  should  have  produced  in  the  same  age  the 
most  wonderful  specimens  of  both  extremes  of  human 
nature.  No  class  of  men  mentioned  in  history  has  ever 
adhered  to  a  principle  with  more  inflexible  pertinacity  than 
was  found  among  the  Scotch  Puritans.  Fine  and  impris- 
onment, the  shears  and  the  branding  iron,  the  boot,  the 
thumbscrew,  and  the  gallows  could  not  extort  from  the 
stubborn  Covenanter  one  evasive  word  on  which  it  was  pos- 
sible to  put  a  sense  inconsistent  with  his  theological  sys- 
tem. Even  in  things  indifferent  he  would  hear  of  no 
compromise;  and  he  was  but  too  ready  to  consider  all  who 
recommended  prudence  and  charity  as  traitors  to  the  cause 
of  truth.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Scotchmen  of  that  gene- 
ration who  made  a  figure  in  the  Parliament  House  and  in 
the  Council  Chamber  were  the  most  dishonest  and  un- 
blushing time-servers  that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  The 

*  Balcarras's  narrative  exhibits  both  Hamilton  and  Athol  in  a  most  unfavorable  light. 
See  also  the  Life  of  James,  ii  338,  339. 

t  Act  Pari.  Scot.,  March  14th,  1688-Q;  Balcarras's  Memoirs:  History  of  the  late  Rev- 
olution in  Scotland;  Life  of  James,  ii.  34*. 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


English  marvelled  alike  at  both  classes.  There  were  many 
stout  hearted  non-conformists  in  the  South;  but  scarcely 
any  who  in  obstinacy,  pugnacity,  and  hardihood  coMld  bear 
a  comparison  with  the  men  of  the  school  of  Cameron. 
There  were  many  knavish  politicians  in  the  South;  but  few 
so  utterly  destitute  of  morality,  and  still  fewer  so  utterly 
destitute  of  shame,  as  the  men  of  the  school  of  Lauder- 
dale. Perhaps  it  is  natural  that  the  most  callous  and  im-  . 
pudent  vice  should  be  found  in  the  near  neighborhood  of 
unreasonable  and  impracticable  virtue.  Where  enthusiasts 
are  ready  to  destroy  or  to  be  destroyed  for  trifles  magnified 
into  importance  by  a  squeamish  conscience,  it  is  not 
strange  that  the  very  name  of  conscience  should  become  a 
byword  of  contempt  to  cool  and  shrewd  men  of  business. 

The  majority,  reinforced  by  the  crowd  of  deserters  from 
the  minority,  proceeded  to  name  a  Committee  of  Elections. 
Ffteen  persons,  were  chosen,  and  it  soon  appeared  that 
twelve  of  these  were  not  disposed  to  examine  severely  into 
the  regularity  of  any  proceeding  of  v/hich  the  result  had 
been  to  send  up  a  Whig  to  the  Parliament  House.  The 
Duke  of  Hamilton  is  said  to  have  been  disgusted  by  the 
gross  partiality  of  his  own  followers,  and  to  have  exerted 
himself,  with  but  little  success,  to  restrain  their  violence.* 

Before  the  Estates  proceeded  to  deliberate  on  the  busi- 
ness for  which  they  had  met,  they  thought  it  necessary  to 
provide  for  their  own  security.  They  could  not  be  per- 
fectly at  ease  while  the  roof  under  which  they  sate  was 
commanded  by  the  batteries  of  the  Castle.  A  deputation 
was  therefore  sent  to  inform  Gordon  that  the  Convention 
required  him  to  evacuate  the  fortress  within  twenty-four 
hours,  and  that  if  he  complied,  his  past  conduct  should 
not  be  remembered  against  him.  He  asked  a  night  for 
consideration.  During  that  night  his  wavering  mind  was 
confirmed  by  the  exhortations  of  Dundee  and'  Balcarras, 
On  the  morrow  he  sent  an  answer  drawn  in  respectful  but 
evasive  terms.  He  was  very  far,  he  declared,  from  medi- 
tating harm  to  the  City  of  Edinburgh.  Least  of  all  could 
he  harbor  any  thought  of  molesting  an  august  assembly 
which  he  regarded  with  profound  reverence.  He  would 
willingly  give  bond -for  his  good  behavior  to  the  amount  of 
twenty  thousand  pounds  sterling.  But  he  was  in  com- 
munication with  the  government  now  established  in  Eng- 
land.   He  was  in  hourly  expectation  of  important  des- 

*  3alcaras's  Memoirs;  History  of  the  late  Rsvoltion  in  Scotland,  1690, 


2l6 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


patches  from  that  government;  and,  till  they  arrived,  he 
should  not  feel  himself  justified  in  resigning  his  command. 
These  excuses  were  not  admitted.  Heralds  and  trumpet- 
ers were  sent  to  summon  the  Castle  in  form,  and  to  de- 
nounce the  penalties  of  high  treason  against  those  who 
should  continue  to  occupy  that  fortress  in  defiance  of  the 
authority  of  the  Estates.  Guards  were  at  the  same  time 
posted  to  intercept  all  communication  between  the  garrison 
and  the  city.* 

Two  days  had  been  spent  in  these  preludes,  and  it  was 
expected  that  on  the  third  morning  the  great  contest 
would  begin.  Meanwhile  the  population  of  Edinburgh 
was  in  an  excited  state.  It  had  been  discovered  that  Dun- 
dee had  paid  visits  to  the  Castle;  and  it  was  believed  that 
his  exhortations  had  induced  the  garrison  to  hold  out. 
His  own  soldiers  were  known  to  be  gathering  round  him; 
and  it  might  well  be  apprehended  that  he  would  make 
some  desperate  attempt.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  had  been 
informed  that  the  Western  Covenanters,  who  filled  the  cel- 
lars of  the  city,  had  vowed  vengeance  on  him ;  and,  in  truth, 
when  we  consider  that  their  tem.per  was  singularly  savage 
and  implacable,  that  they  had  been  taught  to  regard  the 
slaying  of  a  persecutor  as  a  duty,  that  no  examples  fur- 
nished by  Holy  Writ  had  been  more  frequently  held  up  to 
their  admiration  than  Ehud  stabbing  Eglon,  and  Samuel 
hewing  Agag  limb  from  limb;  that  they  had  never  heard 
any  achievement  in  the  history  of  their  own  country  more 
warmly  praised  by  their  favorite  teachers  than  the  butchery 
of  Cardinal  Beatoun  and  of  Archbishop  Sharpe,  we  may 
well  wonder  that  a  man  who  had  shed  the  blood  of  the 
saints  like  water  should  have  been  able  to  walk  the  High 
Street  in  safety  during  a  single  day.  The  enemy  whom 
Dundee  had  most  reason  to  fear  was  a  youth  of  distin- 
guished courage  and  abilities  named  William  Cleland. 
Cleland  had,  when  little  more  than  sixteen  years  old,  borne 
arms  in  that  insurrection  which  had  been  put  down  at 
Bothwell  Bridge.  He  had  since  disgusted  some  virulent 
fanatics  by  his  humanity  and  moderation.  But  with  the 
great  body  of  Presbyterians  his  name  stood  high.  For 
with  the  strict  morality  and  ardent  zeal  of  a  Puritan  he 
united  some  accomplishments  of  which  few  Puritans  could 
boast.    Flis  manners  were  polished,  and  his  literary  and 

*  Act  Pari.  Scot,,  March  14,  and  15,  1689;  Balcarras's  Memoirs;  London  Gaz.  March 
25;  History  of  the  late  Revolution  in  Scotland,  1690;  Account  of  the  Proceedings  of 
^Estates  of  Scotland,  i6§9, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


217 


scientific  attainments  respectable.  He  was  a  linguist,  a 
mathematician,  and  a  poet.  It  is  true  that  his  hymns, 
odes,  ballads,  and  Hudibrastic  satires  are  of  very  little 
intrinsic  value;  but,  when  it  is  considered  that  he  was  a 
mere  boy  when  most  of  them  were  written,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  they  show  considerable  vigor  of  mind.  He 
was  now  at  Edinburgh:  his  influence  among  the  West 
Country  Whigs  assembled  there  was  great:  he  hated  Dun- 
dee with  deadly  hatred,  and  was  believed  to  be  meditating 
some  act  of  violence.* 

On  the  fifteenth  of  March  Dundee  received  information 
that  some  of  the  Covenanters  had  bound  themselves  to- 
gether to  slay  him  and  Sir  George  Mackenzie,  whose  elo- 
quence and  learning,  long  prostituted  to  the  service  of 
tyranny,  had  made  him  more  odious  to  the  Presbyterians 
than  any  other  man  of  the  gown.  Dundee  applied  to 
Hamilton  for  protection;  and  Hamilton  advised  him  to  - 
bring  the  matter  under  the  consideration  of  the  Conven- 
tion at  the  next  sitting.f 

Before  that  sitting  a  person  named  Crane  arrived  from 
France  with  a  letter  addressed  by  the  fugitive  King  to  the 
Estates.  The  letter  was  sealed:  the  bearer,  strange  to  say, 
was  not  furnished  with  a  copy  for  the  information  of  the 
heads  of  the  Jacobite  party;  nor  did  he  bring  any  message, 
written  or  verbal,  to  either  of  James's  agents.  Balcarras 
and  Dundee  were  mortified  by  finding  that  so  little  con- 
fidence was  reposed  in  them,  and  were  harassed  by  pain- 
ful doubts^ touching  the  contents  of  the  document  on  which 
so  much  depended.  They  were  willing,  however,  to  hope 
for  the  best.  King  James  could  not,  situated  as  he  was, 
be  so  ill  advised  as  to  act  in  direct  opposition  to  the  coun- 
sel and  entreaties  of  his  friends.    His  letter,  when  opened, 

*  See  Cleland's  Poems,  and  the  commendatory  poems  contained  in  the  same  volume, 
Edinburgh,  1697.  It  has  been  repeatedly  asserted  that  this  William  Cleland  was  the 
father  of  William  'Cleland,  the  Commissioner  of  Taxes,  who  was  well  known  twenty 
years  later  in  the  literary  society  of  London,  who  rendered  some  not  very  reputable 
services  to  Pope,  and  whose  son  John  was  the  author  of  an  infamous  book  but  too  wide- 
ly celebrated.  This  is  an  entire  mistake.  William  Cleland,  who  fought  at  Bothwell 
Bridge,  was  not  twenty-eight  when  he  was  killed  in  August  1689;  and  William  Cleland, 
the  Commissioner  of  Taxes,  died  at  sixty-seven  in  September  1741.  The  former  thera- 
fore  cannot  have  been  the  father  of  the  latter.  See  the  Exact  Narrative  of  the  battle  of 
Dunkeld;  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  1746;  and  ,  Warburton's  note  on  the  Letter  to 
the  Publisher  of  the  Dunciad,  a  letter  signed  W.  Cleland,  but  really  written  by  Pope. 
In  a  paper  drawn  up  by  Sir  Robert  Hamilton,  the  oracle  of  the  extreme  Covenanters, 
and  a  blood-thirsty  ruffian,  Cleland  is  mentioned  as  having  been  once  leagued  with  those 
fanatics,  but  afterwards  a  great  opposer  of  their  testimony.  Cleland  probably  did  not 
agree  with  Hamilton  in  thinking  it  a  sacred  duty  to  cut  the  throats  of  prisoners  of  war 
who  had  been  received  to  quarter.  See  Hamilton's  Letter  to  the  Societies,  Dec.  7» 
1685. 

t  Balcarras's  Memoirs, 

VpL.  ni-A 


2l8 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


must  be  found  to  contain  such  gracious  assurances  as 
would  animate  the  royalists  and  conciliate  the  moderate 
Whigs.  His  adherents,  therefore,  determined  that  it 
should  be  produced. 

When  the  Convention  reassembled  on  the  morning  of 
Saturday  the  sixteenth  of  March,  it  was  proposed  that 
measures  should  be  taken  for  the  personal  security  of  the 
members.  It  was  alleged  that  the  life  of  Dundee  had 
been  threatened;  that  two  men  of  sinister  appearance  had 
been  watching  the  house  where  he  lodged,  and  had  been 
heard  to  say  that  they  would  use  the  dog  as  he  had  used 
them.  Mackenzie  complained  that  he  too  was  in  danger, 
and,  with  his  usual  copiousness  and  force  of  language,  de- 
manded the  protection  of  the  Estates.  But  the  matter 
was  lightly  treated  by  the  majority;  and  the  Convention 
passed  on  to  other  business^* 

It  was  then  announced  that  Crane  was  at  the  door  of 
the  Parliament  House.  He  was  admitted.  The  paper  of 
which  he  was  in  charge  was  laid  on  the  table.  Hamilton 
remarked  that  there  was,  in  the  hands  of  the  Earl  of 
Leven,  a  communication  from  the  Prince  by  whose  au- 
thority the  Estates  had  been  convoked.  That  communica- 
tion seemed  to  be  entitled  to  precedence.  The  Convention 
was  of  the  same  opinion;  and  the  well-weighed  and  pru- 
dent letter  of  William  was  read. 

It  was  then  moved  that  the  letter  of  James  should  be 
opened.  The  Whigs  objected  that  it  might  possibly  con- 
tain a  mandate  dissolving  the  Convention.  They  therefore 
proposed  that,  before  the  seal  was  broken,  the  Estates 
should  resolve  to  continue  sitting,  notwithstanding  any 
such  mandate.  The  Jacobites,  who  knew  no  more  than 
the  Whigs  what  was  in  the  letter,  and  were  impatient  to  - 
have  it  read,  eagerly  assented.  A  vote  was  passed  by 
which  the  members  bound  themselves  to  consider  any 
order  which  should  command  them  to  separate  as  a 
nullity,  and  to  remain  assembled  till  they  should  have  ac- 
complished the  Work  of  securing  the  liberty  and  religion 
of  Scotland.  This  vote  was  signed  by  almost  all  the  lords 
and  gentlemen  who  were  present.  Seven  out  of  nine 
bishops  subscribed  it.  The  names  of  Dundee  and  Bal- 
carras,  written  by  their  own  hands,  may  still  be  seen  on 

*  Balcarras's  Memoirs.  But  the  fullest  account  of  these  proceedings  is  furnished  by 
some  manuscript  notes  which  are  in  the  library  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates.  Balcarras's 
dates  are  not  quite  exact.  He  probably  trusted  to  his  memory  for  them.  I  have  Q09 
rected  them  from  the  parliamentary  record. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


219 


the  original  roll.  Balcarras  afterwards  excused  what,  on 
his  principles,  was,  beyond  all  dispute,  a  flagrant  act  of 
treason,  by  saying  that  he  and  his  friends  had,  from  zeal 
for  their  master's  interest,  concurred  in  a  declaration  of 
rebellion  against  their  master's  authority;  that  tliey  had 
anticipated  the  most  salutary  effects  from  the  letter;  and 
that,  if  they  had  not  made  some  concession  to  the  major- 
ity, the  letter  would  not  have  been  opened. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  hopes  of  Balcarras  were  grievously 
disappointed.  The  letter  from  which  so  much  had  been 
hoped  and  feared  was  read  with  all  the  honors  which 
Scottish  Parliaments  were  in  the  habit  of  paying  to  royal 
communications:  but  every  word  carried  despair  to  the 
hearts  of  the  Jacobites.  It  was  plain  that  adversity  had 
taught  James  neither  wisdom  nor  mercy.  All  was  obsti- 
nacy, cruelty,  insolence.  A  pardon  was  promised  to  those 
traitors  who  should  return  to  their  allegiance  within  a, 
fortnight.  Against  all  others  unsparing  vengeance  was 
denounced.  Not  only  was  no  sorrow  expressed  for  past 
offences:  but  the  letter  was  itself  a  new  offence:  for  it  was 
written  and  countersigned  by  the  apostate  Melfort,  who 
was,  by  the  statutes  of  th<i  realm,  incapable  of  holding  the 
office  of  secretary,  and  who  was  not  less  abhorred  by  the 
Protestant  Tories  than  by  the  Whigs.  The  hall  was  in  a 
tumult.  The  enemi,es  of  James  were  loud  and  vehement. 
His  friends,  angry  with  him,  and  ashamed  of  him,  saw 
that  it  was  vain  to  think  of  continuing  the  struggle  in  the 
Convention.  Every  vote  which  had  been  doubtful  when 
his  letter  was  unsealed  was  now  irrecoverably  lost.  The 
sitting  closed  in  great  agitation.^ 

It  was  Saturday  afternoon.  There  was  to  be  no  other 
meeting  till  Monday  morning.  The  Jacobite  leaders  held 
a  consultation,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
necessary  to  take  a  decided  step.  Dundee  and  Balcarras 
must  use  the  powers  with  which  they  had  been  entrusted. 
The  minority  must  forthwith  leave  Edinburgh  and  assem- 
ble at  Stirling.  Athol  assented,  and  undertook  to  bring  a 
great  body  of  his  clansmen  from  the  Highlands  to  pro- 
tect the  deliberations  of  the  Royalist  Convention.  Every- 
thing was  arranged  for  the  secession;  but,  in  a  few  hours, 


*  Act.  Pari.  Scot.,  March  16,  1688-9;  Balcarras's  Memoirs;  History  of  the  late  Revo- 
lution in  Scotland,  1690;  Account  of  the  Proceedings  of  the  Estates  of  Scotland,  1689; 
London  Gaz.,  March  25,  1689;  Life  of  James,  ii.  342.  Burnet  blunders  strangely  about 
thes«  transactions. 


226 


ttiSTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


the  tardiness  of  one  man  and  the  haste  of  another  ruined 
the  whole  plan. 

The  Monday  came.  The  Jacobite  lords  and  gentlemen 
^ere  actually  taking  horse  for  Stirling,  when  Athol  asked 
for  a  delay  of  twenty-four  hours.  He  had  no  personal  rea- 
son to  be  in  haste.  By  staying  he  ran  no  risk  of  being  as- 
sassinated. By  going  he  incurred  the  risks  inseparable 
from  civil  war.  The  members  of  his  party,  unwilling  to 
separate  from  him,  consented  to  the  postponement  which 
he  requested,  and  repaired  once  more  to  the  Parliament 
House.  Dundee  alone  refused  to  stay  a  moment  longer. 
His  life  was  in  danger.  The  Convention  had  refused  to 
protect  him.  He  would  not  remain  to  be  a  mark  for  the 
pistols  and  daggers  of  murderers.  Balcarras  expostu- 
lated to   no  purpose.    *^By   departing   alone,'*  he  said, 

you  will  give  the  alarm  and  break  up  the  whole  scheme." 
But  Dundee  was  obstinate.  Brave  as  he  undoubtedly 
was,  he  seems,  like  many  other  brave  men,  to  have  been 
less  proof  against  the  danger  of  assassination  than  against 
any  other  form  of  danger.  He  knew  what  the  hatred  of 
the  Covenanters  was:  he  knew  how  well  he  had  earned  their 
hatred;  and  he  was  haunted  by  that  consciousness  of  inex- 
piable guilt,  and  by  that  dread  of  a  terrible  retribution, 
which  the  ancient  polytheists  personified  under  the  awful 
name  of  the  Furies.  His  old  troopers,  the  Satans  and 
Beelzebubs,  who  had  shared  his  crimes,  and  who  now 
shared  his  perils,  were  ready  to  be  the  companions  of  his 
flight. 

Meanwhile  the  Convention  had  assembled.  Mackenzie 
was  on  his  legs,  and  was  pathetically  lamenting  the  hard 
condition  of  the  Estates,  at  once  commanded  by  the  guns 
of  a  fortress  and  menaced  by  a  fanatical  rabble,  when  he 
was  interrupted  by  some  sentinels  who  came  running  from 
the  posts  near  the  Castle.  They  had  seen  Dundee  at  the 
head  of  fifty  horse  on  the  Stirling  road.  That  road  ran 
close  under  the  huge  rock  on  which  the  citadel  is  built. 
Gordon  had  appeared  on  the  ramparts,  and  had  made  a 
sign  that  he  had  something  to  say.  Dundee  had  climbed 
high  enough  to  hear  and  to  be  heard,  and  was  then  actually 
conferring  with  the  Duke.  Up  to  that  moment  the  hatred 
with  which  the  Presbyterian  members  of  the  assembly  re- 
garded tlie  merciless  persecutor  of  their  brethren  in  the 
faith  had  been  restrained  by  the  decorous  forms  of  parlia- 
mentary deliberation.     But  now  the  explosion  was  terri- 


William  and  MAkV. 


ble.  Hamilton  himself,  who,  by  the  acknowledgment  of 
his  opponents,  had  hitherto  performed  the  duties  of  presi- 
dent with  gravity  and  impartiality,  was  the  loudest'  and 
fiercest  man  in  the  hall.  ''It  is  high  time,"  he  cried,  "that 
we  should  look  to  ourselves.  The  enemies  of  our  religion 
and  of  our  civil  freedom  are  mustering , all  around  us;  and 
we  may  well  suspect  that  they  have  accomplices  even  here. 
Look  at  the  doors.  Lay  the  keys  on  the  table.  Let  no- 
body go  out  but  those  lords  and  gentlemen  whom  we  shall 
appoint  to  call  the  citizens  to  arms.  There  are  some  good 
men  from  the  West  of  Edinburgh,  men  for  whom  I  can  an- 
swer." The  assembly  raised  a  general  cry  of  assent.  Sev- 
eral members  of  the  majority  boasted  that  they  too  had 
brought  with  them  trusty  retainers  who  would  turn  out  at 
a  moment's  notice  against  Claverhouse  and  his  dragoons. 
All  that  Hamilton  proposed  was  instantly  done.  The  Jaco- 
bites, silent  and  unresisting,  became  prisoners.  Leven 
went  forth  and  ordered  the  drums  to  beat.  The  Covenan- 
ters of  Lanarkshire  and  Ayrshire  promptly  obeyed  the  sig- 
nal. The  force  thus  assembled  had  indeed  no  very  military 
appearance,  but  was  amply  sufficient  to  overawe  the  adher- 
ents of  the  House  of  Stuart.  From  Dundee  nothing  was 
to  be  hoped  or  feared.  He  had  already  scrambled  down 
the  Castle  hill,  rejoined  his  troopers,  and  galloped  west- 
ward. Hamilton  now  ordered  the  doors  to  be  opened. 
The  suspected  members  were  at  liberty  to  depart.  Hum- 
bled and  broken-spirited,  yet  glad  that  they  had  come  off  so 
well,  they  stole  forth  thrgu^jh  the  crowd  of  stern  fanatics 
which  filled  the  High  Strati.  All  thought  of  secession  was 
at  an  end.* 

On  the  following  ds^>'  it  was  resolved  that  the  kingdom 
should  be  put  into  a  posture  of  defence.  The  preamble  of 
this  resolution  contained  a  severe  reflection  on  the  perfidy 
of  the  traitor  who,  within  a  few  hours  after  he  had,  by  an 
engagement  subscribed  with  his  own  hand,  bound  himself 
not  to  quit  his  post  in  the  Convention,  had  set  the  example 
of  desertion  and  given  the  signal  of  civil  war.  All  Protes- 
tants, from  sixteen  to  sixty,  were  ordered  to  hold  them- 
selves in  readiness  to  assemble  in  arms  at  the  first 
summons;  and,  that  none  might  pretend  ignorance,  it  was 
directed  that  the  edict  should  be  proclaimed  at  all  the 
market  crosses  throughout  the  realm. f 


*  Balcarras's  Memoirs;  MS.  in  the  library  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates. 

1  Act  Pari.  Scot.,  March  19,  i68g-9.-  History  of  the  late  Revolution  in  Scotland,  1690. 


^22 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  Estates  then  proceeded  to  send  a  letter  of  thanks  to 
William.  To  this  letter  were  attached  the  signatures  of 
many  noblemen  and  gentlemen  who  were  in  the  interest 
of  the  banished  king.  The  bishops,  however,  unanimously 
refused  to  subscribe  their  names. 

It  had  long  been  the  custom  of  the  Parliaments  of  Scot- 
land to  entrust  the  preparation  of  Acts  to  a  select  number 
of  members  who  were  designated  as  the  Lords  of  Articles. 
In  conformity  with  this  usage,  the  business  of  framing  a 
plan  for  the  settling  of  the  government  was  now  confided 
to  a  committee  of  twenty-four.  Of  the  twenty-four,  eight 
were  peers,  eight  representatives  of  counties,  and  eight 
representatives  of  towns.  The  majority  of  the  committee 
were  Whigs;  and  not  a  single  prelate  had  a  seat. 

The  spirit  of  the  Jacobites,  broken  by  a  succession  of 
disasters,  was,  about  this  time,  for  a  moment  revived  by 
the  arrival  of  the  Duke  of  Queensberry  from  London. 
His  rank  was  high:  his  influence  was  great:  his  character, 
by  comparison  with  the  characters  of  those  who  sur- 
rounded him,  was  fair.  When  Popery  w^as  in  the  ascen- 
dent, he  had  been  true  to  the  cause  of  the  Protestant 
Church;  and,  since  Whiggism  had  been  in  the  ascendent, 
he  had  been  true  to  the  cause  of  hereditary  monarchy. 
Some  thought  that,  if  he  had  been  earlier  in  his  place,  he 
might  have  been  able  to  render  important  service  to  the 
House  of  Stuart.*  Even  now  the  stimulants  which  he  ap- 
plied to  his  torpid  and  feeble  party  produced  some  faint 
symptoms  of  returning  animation.  Means  were  found  of 
communicating  with  Gordon;  and  he  was  earnestly  so- 
licited to  fire  on  the  city.  The  Jacobites  hoped  that,  as 
soon  as  the  cannon  balls  had  beaten  down  a  few  chimneys, 
the  Estates  would  adjourn  to  Glasgow.  Time  would  thus 
be  'gained;  and  the  royalists  might  be  able  to  execute  their 
old  project  of  meeting  in  a  separate  convention.  Gordon 
however  positively  refused  to  take  on  himself  so  grave  a 
responsibility  on  no  better  warrant  than  the  request  of  a 
small  cabal. f 

By  this  time  the  Estates  had  a  guard  on  which  they 
could  rely  more  firmly  than  on  the  undisciplined  and  tur- 
bulent Covenanters  of  the  West.  A  squadron  of  English 
men  of  war  from  the  Thames  had  arrived  in  the  Frith  of 
Forth.  On  board  were  the  three  Scottish  regiments  which 
had  accompanied  William  from  Holland.     He  had,  with 


♦  B-alcarras. 


t  Ibid, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


223 


great  judgment,  selected  them  to  protect  the  assemby 
which  was  to  settle  the  government  of  their  country;  and, 
that  no  cause  of  jealousy  might  be  given  to  a  people  ex- 
quisitely sensitive  on  points  of  national  honor,  he  had 
purged  the  ranks  of  all  Dutch  soldiers,  and  had  thus  re- 
duced the  number  of  men  to  about  eleven  hundred.  This 
little  force  was  commanded  by  Hugh  Mackay,  a  High- 
l  mder  of  noble  descent,  who  had  long  served  on  the  con- 
tinent, and  who  was  distinguished  by  courage  of  the  truest 
temper,  and  by  a  piety  such  as  is  seldom  found  in  soldiers 
of  fortune.  The  Convention  passed  a  resolution  appointing 
Mackay  general  of  their  forces.  When  the  question  was 
put  on  this  resolution,  the  Archbishop  of  Glasgow,  unwill- 
ing doubtless  to  be  a  party  to  such  an  usurption  of  powers 
which  belonged  to  the  King  alone,  begged  that  the  pre- 
lates might  be  excused  from  voting.  Divines,  he  said, 
had  nothing  to  do  with  military  arrangements.  The 
Fathers  of  the  Church,"  answered  a  member  very  keenly, 
'^have  been  lately  favored  with  a  new  light.  I  have  my- 
self seen  military  orders  signed  by  the  most  reverend  per- 
son who  has  suddenly  become  so  scrupulous.  There  was 
indeed  one  difference:  those  orders  w^ere  for  dragooning 
Protestants;  and  the  resolution  before  us  is  meant  to  pro- 
tect us  from  Papists."* 

The  arrival  of  Mackay's  troops,  and  the  determination 
of  Gordon  to  remain  inactive,  quelled  the  spirit  of  the 
Jacobites.  They  had  indeed  one  chance  left.  They  might 
possibly,  by  joining  with  those  Whigs  who  were  bent  on 
a  union  with  England,  have  postponed  during  a  consider- 
able time  the  settlement  of  the  government.  A  negotia- 
tion was  actually  opened  with  this  view,  but  was  speedily 
broken  off.  For  it  soon  appeared  that  the  party  which 
was  for  James  was  really  hostile  to  the  union,  and  that  the 
party  which  was  for  the  union  was  really  hostile  to  James. 
As  these  two  parties  had  no  object  in  common,  the  only 
effect  of  a  coalition  between  them  must  have  been  that 
*one  of  them  would  have  become  the  tool  of  the  other. 
The  question  of  the  union  therefore  was  not  raised. f 
Some  Jacobites  retired  to  their  country  seats:  others, 
though  they  remained  at  Edinburgh,  ceased  to  show  them- 
selves in  the  Parliament  House:  many  passed  over  to  the 


♦Act  Pari.  Scot.;  History  of  the  late  Bevolution,  1690;  Memoirs  of  North  Britain, 
t  Bsilcarras. 


224 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


winning  side;  and,  when  at  length  the  resolutions  prepared 
by  the  Twenty-Four  were  submitted  to  the  Convention,  it 
appeared  that  the  great  body  which  on  the  first  day  of  the 
session  had  rallied  round  Athol  had  dwindled  away  to 
nothing. 

The  resolutions  had  been  framed,  as  far  as  possible,  in 
conformity  with  the  example  recently  set  at  Westminster.  ^ 
In  one  important  point,  however,  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  the  copy  should  deviate  from  the  original.  The 
Estates  of  England  had  brought  two  charges  against 
James,  his  misgovernment  and  his  flight,  and  had,  by  us- 
ing the  soft  word  "Abdication,"  evaded,  with  some  sacri- 
fice of  verbal  precision,  the  question  whether  subjects  may 
lawfully  depose  a  bad  prince.  That  question  the  Estates 
of  Scotland  could  not  evade.  They  could  not  pretend  that 
James  had  deserted  his  post.  For  he  had  never,  since  he 
came  to  the  throne,  resided  in  Scotland.  During  many 
years  that  kingdom  had  been  ruled  by  sovereigns  who 
dwelt  in  another  land.  The  whole  machinery  of  the  ad- 
ministration had  been  constructed  on  the  supposition  that 
the  king  would  be  absent,  and  was  therefore  not  neces- 
sarily deranged  by  that  flight  which  had,  in  the  south  of 
the  island,  dissolved  all  government,  and  supended  the  or- 
dinary course  of  justice.  It  was  only  by  letter  that  the 
King  could,  when  he  was  at  Whitehall,  communicate  with 
the  Council  and  the  Parliament  at  Edinburgh;  and  by 
letter  he  could  communicate  with  them  when  he  was  at 
Saint  Germains  or  at  Dublin.  The  Twenty-Four  were 
therefore  forced  to  propose  to  the  Estates  a  resolution  dis- 
tinctly declaring  that  James  the  Seventh  had  by  his  mis- 
conduct forfeited  the  crown.  Many  writers  have  inferred 
from  the  language  of  this  resolution  that  sound  political 
principles  had  made  a  greater  progress  in  Scotland  than  in 
England.  But  the  whole  history  of  the  two  countries, 
from  the  Restoration  to  the  Union,  proves  this  inference  to 
be  erroneous.  The  Scottish  Estates  used  plain  language, 
simply  because  it  was  impossible  for  them,  situated  as  they 
were,  to  use  evasive  language. 

The  person  who  bore  the  chief  part  in  framing  the  reso- 
lution, and  in  defending  it,  was  Sir  John  Dalrymple,  whc 
had  recently  held  the  high  office  of  Lord  Advocate,  and 
had  been  an  accomplice  in  some  of  the  misdeeds  which  he 
now  arraigned  with  great  force  of  reasoning  and  eloquence. 
He  vva§  strenuously  supported  by  Sir  James  Montgomery, 


William  and  Uam. 


tiiember  for  Ayrshire,  a  man  of  considerable  abilities,  but 
of  loose  principles,  turbulent  temper,  insatiable  cupidity, 
and  implacable  malevolence.  The  Archbishop  of  Glasgow 
and  Sir  George  Mackenzie  spoke  on  the  other  side:  but 
the  only  effect  of  their  oratory  was  to  deprive  their  party 
of  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  allege  that  the  Estates 
were  under  duress,  and  that  liberty  of  speech  had  been  de- 
nied to  the  defenders  of  hereditary  monarchy. 

When  the  question  was  put,  Athol,  Queensberry,  and 
some  of  their  friends  withdrew.  Only  five  members  voted 
against  the  resolution  which  pronounced  that  James  had 
forfeited  his  right  to  the  allegiance  of  his  subjects.  When 
it  was  moved  that  the  Crown  of  Scotland  should  be  set- 
tled as  the  Crown  of  England  had  been  settled,  Athol  and 
Queensberry  reappeared  in  the  hall.  They  had  doubted, 
they  said,  whether  they  could  justifiably  declare  the  throne 
vacant.  But,  since  it  had  been  declared  vacant,  they  felt 
no  doubt  that  William  and  Mary  were  the  persons  who 
ought  to  fill  it. 

The  Convention  then  went  forth  in  procession  to  the 
High  Street.  Several  great  nobles,  attended  by  the  Lord 
Provost  of  the  capital  and  by  the  heralds,  ascended  the 
octagon  tower  from  which  rose  the  city  cross  surmounted 
by  the  unicorn  of  Scotland.*  Hamilton  read  the  vote  of 
the  Convention;  and  a  King  at  Arms  proclaimed  the  new 
Sovereigns  with  sound  of  trumpet.  On  the  same  day  the 
Estates  issued  an  order  that  the  parochial  clergy  should, 
on  pain  of  deprivation,  publish  from  their  pulpits  the  proc- 
lamation which  had  just  been  read  at  the  city  cross,  and 
should  pray  for  King  William  and  Queen  Mary. 

Still  the  interregnum  was  not  at  an  end.  Though  the 
new  Sovereigns  had  been  proclaimed,  they  had  not  yet 
been  put  into  possession  of  the  royal  authority  by  a  formal 
tender  and  a  formal  acceptance.  At  Edinburgh,  as  at 
Westminster,  it  was  thought  necessary  that  the  instrument 
which  settled  the  government  should  clearly  define  and 
solemnly  assert  those  privileges  of  the  people  which  the 
Stuarts  had  illegally  infringed.  A  Claim  of  Right  was 
therefore  drawn  up  by  the  Twenty-Four,  and  adopted  by 
the  Convention.  To  this  claim,  which  purported  to  be 
merely  declaratory  of  the  law  as  it  stood,  was  added  a  sup- 
piemen^^  a  list  of  grievances  which 

*  Every  reader  will  remember  the  malediction  which  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  the  Fifth 
Oanto  of  Marraion,  pronounced  on  the  dunces  who  removed  this  interesting  moDti* 
inent. 


5^6 


HISTORY  or  ENGLAND. 


could  be  remedied  only  by  new  laws.  One  most  Important 
article,  which  we  should  naturally  expect  to  find  at  the  head 
of  such  a  list,  the  Convention,  with  great  practical  pru- 
dence, but  in  defiance  of  notorious  facts  and  of  unanswer- 
able arguments,  placed  in  the  Claim  of  Right.  Kobody 
could  deny  that  prelacy  was  established  by  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment. The  power  exercised  by  the  bishops  might  be  per- 
nicious, unscriptural,  antichristian :  but  illegal  it  certainly 
was  not;  and  to  pronounce  it  illegal  was  to  outrage  com- 
mon sense.  The  Whig  leaders,  however,  were  much  more 
desirous  to  get  rid  of  episcopacy  than  to  prove  themselves 
consummate  publicists  and  logicians.  If  they  made  the 
abolition  of  episcopacy  an  article  of  the  contract  by  which 
William  was  to  hold  the  crown,  they  attained  their  end, 
though  doubtless  in  a  manner  open  to  much  criticism.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  they  contented  themselves  with  resolv- 
ing that  episcopacy  was  a  noxious  institution  which  at 
some  future  time  the  legislature  would  do  well  to  abolish, 
they  might  find  that  their  resolution,  though  unobjection- 
able in  form,  was  barren  of  consequences.  They  knew 
that  William  by  no  means  sympathized  with  their  dislike 
of  bishops,  and  that,  even  had  he  been  much  more  zealous 
for  the  Calvinistic  model  than  he  was,  the  relation  in 
which  he  stood  to  the  Anglican  Church  would  make  it 
difficult  and  dangerous  for  him  to  declare  himself  hostile 
to  a  fundamental  part  of  the  constitution  of  that  Church. 
If  he  should  become  King  of  Scotland  without  being  fet- 
tered by  any  pledge  on  this  subject,  it  might  well  be  ap- 
prehended that  he  would  hesitate  about  passing  an  Act 
which  would  be  regarded  with  abhorrence  by  a  large  body 
of  his  subjects  in  the  south  of  the  island.  It  was  therefore 
most  desirable  that  the  question  should  be  settled  while 
the  throne  was  still  vacant.  In  this  opinion  many  poli- 
ticians concurred,  who  had  no  dislike  to  rochets  and  mitres, 
but  who  wished  that  William  might  have  a  quiet  and  pros- 
perous reign.  The  Scottish  people, — so  these  men  rea- 
soned,— hated  episcopacy.  The  English  loved  it.  To  leave 
William  any  voice  in  the  matter  was  to  put  him  under  the 
necessity  of  deeply  wounding  the  strongest  feelings  of  one 
of  the  nations  which  he  governed.  It  was  therefore  plain- 
ly for  his  own  interest  that  the  question,  which  he  could 
not  settle  in  any  manner  without  incurring  a  fearful 
amount  of  obloquy,  should  be  settled  for  him  by  others 
who  were  exposed  to  no  such  danger.    He  was  not  yet 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


227 


Sovereign  of  Scotland.  While  the  interregnum  lasted,  the 
supreme  power  belonged  to  the  Estates;  and  for  what  the 
Estates  might  do  the  prelatists  of  his  southern  kingdom 
could  not  hold  him  responsible.  The  elder  Dalrymple 
wrote  strongly  from  London  to  this  effect;  and  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  he  expressed  the  sentiments  of  his 
master.  William  would  have  sincerely  rejoiced  if  the  Scots 
could  have  been  reconciled  to  a  modified  episcopacy.  But, 
since  that  could  not  be,  it  was  manifestly  desirable  that 
they  should  themselves,  while  there  was  yet  no  king  over 
them,  pronounce  the  irrevocable  doom  of  the  institution 
which  they  abhorred.* 

The  Convention,  therefore,  with  little  debate  as  it  should 
seem,  inserted  in  the  Claim  of  Right  a  clause  declaring  that 
prelacy  was  an  insupportable  burden  to  the  kingdom,  that 
it  had  been  long  odious  to  the  body  of  the  people,  and  that 
it  ought  to  be  abolished. 

Nothing  in  the  proceedings  at  Edinburgh  astonishes  an 
Englishman  more  than  the  manner  in  which  the  Estates 
dealt  with  the  practice  of  torture.  In  England  torture 
had  always  been  illegal.  In  the  most  servile  times  the 
judges  had  unanimously  pronounced  it  so.  Those  rulers 
w^ho  had  occasionally  resorted  to  it  had,  as  far  as  was 
possible,  used  it  in  secret,  had  never  pretended  that  they 
had  acted  in  conformity  with  either  statute  law  or  com- 
mon law,  and  had  excused  themselves  by  saying  that  the 
extraordinary  peril  to  which  the  state  was  exposed  had 
forced  them  to  take  on  themselves  the  responsibility 
of  employing  extraordinary  means  of  defence.  It  had 
therefore  never  been  thought  necessary  by  any  English 
Parliament  to  pass  any  Act  or  resolution  touching  this 
matter.  The  torture  was  not  mentioned  in  the  Petition  of 
Right,  or  in  any  of  the  statutes  framed  by  the  Long  Par- 
liament. No  member  of  the  Convention  of  1689  dreamed 
of  proposing  that  the  instrument  which  called  the  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Orange  to  the  throne  should  contain  a 
declaration  against  the  using  of  racks  and  thumb-screws 
for  the  purpose  of  forcing  prisoners  to  accuse  themselves. 
Such  a  declaration  would  have  been  justly  regarded  as 
weakening  rather  than  strengthening  a  rule  which,  as  far 
back  as  the  days  of  the  Plantagenets,  had  been  proudly 


*  *'It  will  be  neither  secair  nor  kynd  to  the  King  to  expect  it  to  be  (by)  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment after  the  settlement,  which  will  lay  it  at  his  door."  Dalrymple  to  Melville,  s 
April,  1689;  Leven  and  Melville  Papers. 


228 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


declared  by  the  most  illustrious  sages  of  Westminstef 
Hall  to  be  a  distinguishing  feature  of  the  English  juris- 
prudence.* In  the  Scottish  Claim  of  Right,  the  use  of 
torture  without  evidence,  or  in  ordinary  cases,  was  de- 
clared to  be  contrary  to  law.  The  use  of  torture,  there- 
fore, where  there  was  strong  evidence,  and  where  the 
crime  was  extraordinary,  was,  by  the  plainest  implication, 
declared  to  be  according  to  law;  nor  did  the  Estates  men- 
tion the  use  of  torture  among  the  grievances  which  re- 
quired a  legislative  remedy.  In  truth,  they  could  not  con- 
demn the  use  of  torture  without  condemning  themselves. 
It  had  chanced  that  while  they  were  employed  in  settling 
the  government,  the  eloquent  and  learned  Lord  President 
Lockhart  had  been  foully  murdered  in  a  public  street 
through  which  he  was  returning  from  church  on  a  Sunday. 
The  murderer  was  seized,  and  proved  to  be  a  wretch  who, 
having  treated  his  wife  barbarously  and  turned  her  out  of 
doors,  had  been  compelled  by  a  decree  of  the  Court  of 
Session  to  provide  for  her.  A  savage  hatred  of  the  judges 
by  whom  she  had  been  protected  had  taken  possession  of 
his  mind,  and  had  goaded  him  to  a  horrible  crime  and  a 
horrible  fate.  It  was  natural  that  an  assassination  attend- 
ed by  so  many  circumstances  of  aggravation  should  move 
the  indignation  of  the  members  of  the  Convention.  Yet 
they  should  have  considered  the  gravity  of  the  conjunc- 
ture and  the  importance  of  their  own  mission.  They  un- 
fortunately, in  the  heat  of  passion,  directed  the  magis- 
trates of  Edinburgh  to  strike  the  prisoner  in  the  boots, 
and  named  a  committee  to  superintend  the  operation.  But 
for  this  unhappy  event,  it  is  probable  that  the  law  of  Scot- 
land concerning  torture  would  have  been  immediately  as- 
similated to  the  law  of  England. f 

Having  settled  the  Claim  of  Right,  the  Convention  pro- 
ceeded to  revise  the  coronation  oath.  When  this  had 
been  done,  three  members  were  appointed  to  carry  the 
Instrument  of  Government  to  London.  Argyle,  though 
not  in  strictness  of  law,  a  Peer,  was  chosen  to  represent 
the  Peers:  Sir  James  Montgomery  represented  the  Com- 
missioners of  Shires,  and  Sir  John  Dalrymple  the  Com- 
missioners of  Towns. 

The  Estates  then  adjourned  for  a  few  weeks,  having  first 
passed  a  vote  which  empowered  Hamilton  to  take  such 

i  ♦  There  is  a  striking  passage  on  this  subject  in  Fortescue. 

+  Act  Pari,  Scot.,  April  x,  1689;  Orders  of  Committee  of  Estates,  May  x6,  1689;  Loadoa 
Gazette,  April  xx. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


229 


measures  as  might  be  necessary  for  the  preservation  of 
the  public  peace  till  the  end  of  the  interregnum. 

The  ceremony  of  the  inauguration  was  distinguished 
from  ordinary  pageants  by  some  highly  interesting  cir- 
cumstances. On  the  eleventh  of  May  the  three  Commis- 
sioners came  to  the  Council  Chamber  at  Whitehall,  and 
thence,  attended  by  almost  all  the  Scotchmen  of  note  who 
were  then  in  London,  proceeded  to  the  Banqueting  House. 
There  William  and  Mary  appeared  seated  under  a  canopy. 
A  splendid  circle  of  English  nobles  and  statesmen  stood 
round  the  throne:  but  the  sword  of  state  was  committed 
to  a  Scotch  Lord;  and  the  oath  of  office  was  administered 
after  the  Scotch  fashion.  Argyle  recited  the  words  slow- 
ly. The  royal  pair,  holding  up  their  hands  towards  heav- 
en, repeated  after  him  till  they  came  to  the  last  clause. 
There  William  paused.  That  clause  contained  a  promise 
that  he  would  root  out  all  heretics  and  all  enemies  of  the 
true  worship  of  God;  and  it  was  notorious  that,  in  the 
opinion  of  many  Scotchmen,  not  only  all  Roman  Catho- 
lics, but  all  Protestant  Episcopalians,  all  Independents, 
Baptists,  and  Quakers,  all  Lutherans,  nay  all  British  Pres- 
byterians who  did  not  hold  themselves  bound  by  the  Sol- 
emn League  and  Covenant,  were  enemies  of  the  true 
worship  of  God.*  The  King  had  apprised  the  Commision- 
ers  that  he  could  not  take  this  part  of  the  oath  without  a 
distinct  and  public  explanation;  and  they  had  been  au- 
thorized by  the  Convention  to  give  such  an  explanation  as 
would  satisfy  him.  "I  will  not,"  he  now  said,  lay  myself 
under  any  obligation  to  be  a  persecutor.'*  ^'Neither the 
words  of  this  oath,"  said  one  of  the  Commissioners,  "nor 
the  laws  of  Scotland,  lay  any  such  obligation  on  Your 
Majesty."  "In  that  sense,  then,  I  swear,^'  said  William; 
"and  I  desire  you  all,  my  lords  and  gentlemen,  to  witness 


*  As  it  has  lately  been  denied  that  the  extreme  Presbyterians  entertained  an  unfavor- 
able opinion  of  the  Lutherans,  I  will  give  two  decisive  proofs  of  the  truth  of  what  I 
have  asserted  in  the  text.  In  the  book  entitled  Faithful  Contendings  Displayed  is  a 
report  of  what  passed  at  the  General  Meeting  of  the  United  Societies  of  Covenanters 
©n  the  24th  of  October,  i688.  The  question  was  propounded  whether  there  should  be  an 
association  with  the  Dutch.  "It  was  concluded  unanimously,"  says  the  Clerk  of  the 
Societies,  "that  we  could  not  have  an  association  with  the  Dutch  in  one  body,  nor  come 
formally  under  their  conduct,  being  such  a  promiscuous  conjunction  of  reformed  Luther- 
an malignants  and  sectaries,  to  join  with  whom  were  repugnant  to  the  testimony  of  the 
Churcn  of  Scotland."  In  the  Protestation  and  Testimony  drawn  up  on  the  2d  of  Octo- 
ber 1707,  the  United  Societies  complain  that  the  crown  has  bee^  settled  on"  the  Prince 
of  Hanover,  who  has  been  bred  and  brought  up  in  the  Lutheran  religion,  which  is  not 
only  different  from,  but  even  in  many  things  contrary  unto  that  purity  in  doctrine,  re- 
formation, and  religion,  we  in  these  nations  had  attained  unto,  as  is  very  well  known." 
They  add:  "The  admitting  such  a  person  to  reign  over  us  is  not  only  contrary  to  our  Sol- 
ewn  League  and  Covenant,  but  to  the  very  Word  of  Q<?cl  iuelf,  Peut.  kvU," 


230 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


/ 


that  I  do  so.'*  Even  his  detractors  have  generally  admit-  / 
ted  that  on  this  great  occasion  he  acted  with  uprightness/ 
dignity,  and  wisdom."* 

As  King  of  Scotland,  he  soon  found  himself  embarrassed 
at  every  step  by  all  the  difficulties  which  had  embarrassed 
him  as  King  of  England,  and  by  other  difficulties  which  in 
England  were  happily  unknown.  In  the  north  of  the 
island,  no  class  was  more  dissatisfied  with  the  Revolution 
than  the  class  which  owed  most  to  the  Revolution.  The 
manner  in  which  the  Convention  had  decided  the  question 
of  ecclesiastical  polity  had  not  been  more  offensive  to  the 
bishops  themselves  than  to  those  fiery  Covenanters  who 
had  long,  in  defiance  of  sword  and  carbine,  boot  and  gib- 
bet, worshipped  their  Maker  after  their  own  fashion  in 
caverns  and  on  mountain  tops.  Was  there  ever,  these 
zealots  exclaimed,  such  a  halting  between  two  opinions, 
such  a  compromise  between  the  Lord  and  Baal?  The  Es- 
tates ought  to  have  said  that  episcopacy  was  an  abomi- 
nation in  God's  sight,  and  that,  in  obedience  to  his  word, 
and  from  fear  of  his  righteous  judgment,  they  were  de- 
termined to  deal  with  this  great  national  sin  and  scandal 
after  the  fashion  of  those  saintly  rulers  who  of  old  cut 
down  the  groves  and  demolished  the  altars  of  Chemosh 
and  Astarte.  Unhappily,  Scotland  was  ruled,  not  by  pious 
Jcsiahs,  but  by  careless  Gallios.  The  anti-christian  hier- 
archy was  to  be  abolished,  not  because  it  was  an  insult  to 
heaven,  but  because  it  was  felt  as  a  burden  on  earth;  not 
because  it  was  hateful  to  the  great  Head  of  the  Church, 
but  because  it  was  hateful  to  the  people.  Was  public 
opinion,  then,  the  test  of  right  and  wrong  in  religion? 
Was  not  the  order  which  Christ  had  established  in  his  own 
house  to  be  held  equally  sacred  in  all  countries  and 
through  all  ages?  And  was  there  no  reason  for  following 
that  order  in  Scotland,  except  a  reason  which  might  be 
urged  with  equal  force  for  maintaining  prelacy  in  England, 
Popery  in  Spain,  and  Mahometanism  in  Turkey?  Why, 
too,  was  nothing  said  of  those  Covenants  which  the  nation 
had  so  generally  subscribed  and  so  generally  violated? 
Why  was  it  not  distinctly  affirmed  that  the  promises  set 
down  in  those  rolls  were  still  binding,  and  would  to  the 
end  of  time  be,  binding,  on  the  kingdom?    Were  these 

*  History  of  the  late  Revolution  in  Scotland;  London  Gazette,  May  16,  1689.  The 
official  account  of  what  passed  was  evidently  drawn  up  with  great  care.  See  also  the 
Royal  Diary,  1702.  The  writer  of  this  work  professes  to  have  derived  his  information 
from  a, divine  who  was  present. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


iruths  to  be  suppressed  from  regard  for  the  feelings  and 
,  interests  of  a  prince  who  was  all  things  to  all  men,  an  ally 
oi  the  idolatrous  Spaniard  and  of  the  Lutheran  Dane,  a 
Presbyterian  at  the  Hague  and  a  prelatist  at  Whitehall? 
He,  like  Jehu  in  ancient  times,  had  doubtless  so  far  done 
well  that  he  had  been  the  scourge  of  the  idolatrous  House 
of  Ahab.  But  he,  like  Jehu,  had  not  taken  heed  to  walk  in 
the  divine  law  with  his  whole  heart,  but  had  tolerated  and 
practiced  impieties  differing  only  in  degree  from  those  of 
which  he  had  declared  himself  the  enemy.  It  would  have 
better  become  godly  senators  to  remonstrate  with  him  on 
the  sin  which  he  was  committing  by  conforming  to  the 
Anglican  ritual,  and  by  maintaining  the  Anglican  Church 
government,  than  to  flatter  him  by  using  a  phraseology 
which  seemed  to  indicate  that  they  Vv^ere  as  deeply  tainted 
with  Erastianism  as  himself.  Many^  of  those  who  held 
this  language  refused  to  do  any  act  which  could  be  con- 
strued into  a  recognition  of  the  new  Sovereigns,  and  would 
rather  have  been  fired  upon  by  files  of  musketeers,  or  tied 
to  stakes  within  low-water  mark,  than  have  uttered  a 
prayer  that  God  would  bless  William  and  Mary. 

Yet  the  King  had  less  to  fear  from  the  pertinacious  ad- 
herence of  these  men  to  their  absurd  principles  than  from 
the  ambition  and  avarice  of  another  set  of  men  who  had 
no  principles  at  all.  It  was  necessary  that  he  should  im- 
mediately name  ministers  to  conduct  the  government  of 
Scotland;  and,  name  whom  he  might,  he  could  not  fail  to 
disappoint  and  irritate  a  multitude  of  expectants.  Scot- 
land was  one  of  the  least  wealthy  countries  in  Europe;  yet 
no  country  in  Europe  contained  a  greater  number  of 
clever  and  selfish  politicians.  The  places  in  the  gift  of  the 
crown  were  not  enough  to  satisfy  one  twentieth  part  of 
the  place-hunters,  every  one  of  whom  thought  that  his 
own  services  had  been  pre-eminent,  and  that  whoever 
might  be  passed  by,  he  ought  to  be  remembered.  William 
did  his  best  to  satisfy  these  innumerable  and  insatiable 
claimants  by  putting  many  offices  into  commission. 
There  were,  however,  a  few  great  posts  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  divide.  Hamilton  was  declared  Lord  High 
Commissioner,  in  the  hope  that  immense  pecuniary  allow- 
ances, a  residence  in  Holyrood  Palace,  and  a  pomp  and 
dignity  little  less  than  regal,  would  content  him.  The 
Earl  of  Crawford  was  appointed  President  of  the  Parlia- 
ment; and  it  was  supposed  that  this  appointment  would 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


conciliate  the  rigid  Presbyterians:  for  Crawford  was  whft 
they  called  a  professor.  His  letters  and  speeches  are,  io 
use  his  own  phraseology,  exceeding  savory.  Alone,  oral- 
most  alone,  among  the  prominent  politicians  of  that  time, 
he  retained  the  style  which  had  been  fashionable  in  the 
preceding  generation.  He  had  a  text  from  the  Penta- 
teuch or  the  Prophets  ready  for  every  occasion.  He  filled 
his  despatches  with  allusions  to  Ishmael  and  Hagar,  Han- 
nah and  Eli,  Elijah,  Nehemiah,  and  Zerubbabel,  and 
adorned  his  oratory  with  quotations  from  Ezra  and 
Haggai.  It  is  a  circumstance  strikingly  characteristic  of 
the  man,  and  of  the  school  in  which  he  had  been  trained, 
that,  in  all  the  mass  of  his  writing  which  has  come  down 
to  us,  there  is  not  a  single  word  indicating  that  he  had 
ever  in  his  life  heard  of  the  New  Testament.  Even  in  our 
own  time  some  persons  of  a  peculiar  taste  have  been  so 
much  delighted  by  the  rich  unction  of  his  eloquence,  that 
they  have  confidently  pronounced  him  a  saint.  To  those 
whose  habit  is  to  judge  of  a  man  rather  by  his  actions 
than  by  his  words,  Crawford  will  appear  to  have  been  a 
selfish,  cruel  politician,  who  was  not  at  all  the  dupe  of  his 
own  cant,  and  w^hose  zeal  against  Episcopal  government 
was  not  a  little  whetted  by  his  desire  to  obtain  a  grant  of 
Episcopal  domains.  In  excuse  for  his  greediness,  it  ought 
to  be  said  that  he  was  the  poorest  noble  of  a  poor  nobility, 
and  that  before  the  Revolution  he  was  sometimes  at  a  loss 
for  a  meal  and  a  suit  of  clothes.* 

The  ablest  of  Scottish  politicians  and  debaters.  Sir  John 
Dalrymple,  was  appointed  Lord  Advocate.  His  father, 
Sir  James,  the  greatest  of  Scottish  jurists,  was  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  Court  of  Session.  Sir  William  Lockhart,  a 
man  whose  letters  prove  him  to  have  possessed  consider- 
able ability,  became  Solicitor  General. 

Sir  James  Montgomery  had  flattered  himself  that  he 
should  be  the  chief  minister.    He  had  distinguished  him- 

*  See  Crawford's  Letters  and  Speeches, His  style  of  begging  for  a  place  was 
peculiar.  After  owning,  not  without  reason,  that  his  heart  was  deceitful  and  desper- 
ately wicked,  he  proceeded  thus:  "The  same  Omnipotent  Being  who  hath  said,  when 
the  poor  and  needy  seek  water  and  there  is  none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thiri*,  He 
will  not  forsake  them,  notwithstanding  of  my  present  low  condition,  can  build  me  a 
house  if  He  think  fit,"— Letter  to  Melville  of  May  28.  1689.  As  to  Crawford's  poverty 
and  his  passion  for  Bishops*  lands,  see  his  letter  to  Melville  of  the  4th  of  December, 
1690.  As  to  his  humanity,  see  his  letter  to  Melville,  Dec.  11,  1690.  All  these  letters  are 
among  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers.  The  author  of  An  Account  of  the  Late  Estab- 
lishment of  Presbyterian  Government  says  of  a  person  who  had  taken  a  bribe  of  ten  or 
twelve  pounds,  '*Had  he  been  as  poor  as  my  Lord  Crawford,  perhaps  he  had  been  the 
more  excusable."  See  also  the  dedication  of  the  celebrated  tract  eatitled  Scotch  Presby- 
terian Eloquence  Displayed, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


Self  highly  in  the  Convention.  He  had  been  one  of  the 
Commissioners  who  had  tendered  the  Crown  and  admin- 
istered the  oath  to  the  new  Sovereigns.  In  parliamentary 
ability  and  eloquence  he  had  no  superior  among  his  coun- 
trymen, except  the  new  Lord  Advocate.  The  Secretary- 
ship was,  not  indeed  in  dignity,  but  in  real  power,  the 
highest  office  in  the  Scottish  government;  and  this  office 
was  the  reward  to  which  Montgomery  thought  himself  en- 
titled. But  the  Episcopalians  and  the  moderate  Presby- 
terians dreaded  him  as  a  man  of  extreme  opinions  and  oi 
bitter  spirit.  He  had  been  a  chief  of  the  Covenanters:  he 
had  been  prosecuted  at  one  time  for  holding  conventicles, 
and  at  another  time  for  harboring  rebels:  he  had  been 
fined:  he  had  been  imprisoned:  he  had  been  almost  driven 
to  take  refuge  from  his  enemies  beyond  the  Atlantic  in  the 
infant  settlement  of  New  Jersey.  It  was  apprehended  that, 
if  he  were  now  armed  with  the  whole  power  of  the  crown  he 
would  exact  a  terrible  retribution  for  what  he  had  suffered.* 
William  therefore  preferred  Melville,  who,  though  not  a 
man  of  eminent  talents,  was  regarded  by  the  Presbyterians 
as  a  thorough-going  friend,  and  yet  not  regarded  by  the 
Episcopalians  as  an  implacable  enemy.  Melville  fixed  his 
residence  at  the  English  Court,  and  became  the  regular 
organ  of  communication  between  Kensington  and  the  au- 
thorities at  Edinburgh. 

William  had,  however,  one  Scottish  adviser  who  deserved 
and  possessed  more  influence  than  any  of  the  ostensible 
ministers.  This  was  Carstairs,  one  of  the  most  remarka- 
ble men  of  that  age.  He  united  great  scholastic  attain- 
ments with  great  aptitude  for  civil  business,  and  the  firm 
faith  and  ardent  zeal  of  a  martyr  with  the  shrewdness  and 
suppleness  of  a  consummate  politician.  In  courage  and 
fidelity  he  resembled  Burnet;  but  he  had,  what  Burnet 
wanted,  judgment,  self-command,  and  a  singular  power  of 
keeping  secrets.  There  was  no  post  to  which  he  might 
not  have  aspired  if  he  had  been  a  layman,  or  a  priest  of 
the  Church  of  England.  But  a  Presbyterian  clergyman 
could  not  hope  to  attain  any  high  dignity  either  in  the 
north  or  in  the  south  of  the  island.  Carstairs  was  forced 
to  content  himself  with  the  substance  of  power,  and  to 
leave  the  semblance  to  others.  He  was  named  Chaplain  to 


♦  Burnet,  ii.  23,  24;  Fountainhall  Papers,  13  Aug.  1684,  14  and  15  Oct.  1684,  3  May 
1685;  Montgomery  to  Melville,  June  23,  1689,  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers;  PtC* 
teoees  ©£  the  FreBch  Invasion  Examined,  licensed  May  25,  1692. 


IIISTORY  OF  ENGLANt). 


/ 

/ 

/ 


their  Majesties  for  Scotland:  but  wherever  the  King  wa^, 
in  England,  in  Ireland,  in  the  Netherlands,  there  was  this 
most  trusty  and  most  prudent  of  courtiers.  He  obtained 
from  the  royal  bounty  a  modest  competence;  and  he  desired 
no  more.  But  it  was  well  known  that  he  could  be  as  use^ 
ful  a  friend  and  as  formidable  an  enemy  as  any  member 
of  the  cabinet;  and  he  was  designated  at  the  public  offices 
and  in  the  ante-chambers  of  the  palace  by  the  significant 
nickname  of  the  Cardinal."* 

To  Montgomery  was  offered  the  place  of  Lord  Justice 
Clerk.  But  that  place,  though  high  and  honorable,  he 
thought  below  his  merits  and  his  capacity;  and  he  returned 
from  London  to  Scotland  with  a  heart  ulcerated  by  hatred 
of  his  ungrateful  master  and  of  his  successful  rivals.  At 
Edinburgh  a  knot  of  Whigs,  as  severejy  disappointed  as 
himself  by  the  new  arrangements,  readily  submitted  to  the 
guidance  of  so  bold  and  able  a  leader.  Under  his  direc- 
tion these  men,  among  whom  the  Earl  of  Annandale  and 
Lord  Ross  were  the  most  conspicuous,  formed  themselves 
into  a  society  called  the  Club,  appointed  a  clerk,  and  met 
daily  at  a  tavern  to  concert  plans  of  opposition.  Round 
this  nucleus  soon  gathered  a  great  body  of  greedy  and 
angry  politicians. f  With  these  dishonest  malcontents, 
whose  object  was  merely  to  annoy  the  government  and  to 
get  places,  were  leagued  other  malcontents,  who  in  the 
course  of  a  long  resistance  to  tyranny,  had  become  so  per- 
verse and  irritable  that  they  were  unable  to  live  contentedly 
even  under  the  mildest  and  most  constitutional  rule.  Such 
a  man  was  Sir  Patrick  Hume.  He  had  returned  from  exile, 
as  litigious,  as  impracticable,  as  morbidly  jealous  of  all 
superior  authority,  and  as  fond  of  haranguing,  as  he  had 
been  four  years  before,  and  was  as  much  bent  on  making  a 
merely  nominal  sovereign  of  William  as  he  had  formerly 
been  bent  on  making  a  merely  nominal  general  of  Argyle.J 
A  man  far  superior  morally  and  intellectually  to  Hume, 
Fletcher  of  Saltoun,  belonged  to  the  same  party.  Though 
not  a  member  of  the  Convention,  he  was  a  most  active 

*  See  the  life  and  correspondence  of  Carstairs,  and  the  interesting  memorials  of  hirA 
in  the  Caldwell  Papers,  printed  in  1854.  See  also  Mackay's  character  of  him,  and 
Swift's  note.  Swift's  word  is  not  to  be  taken  against  a  Scotchman  and  a  Presbyterian. 
I  believe,  however,  thai  Carstairs,  though  an  honest  and  pious  man  in  essentials,  had 
his  full  share  of  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent. 

t  Sir  John  Dalrymple  to  Lord  Melville,  June  18,  20,  25,  1689;  Leven  and  Melville  Pa- 
pers. 

t  Tltert  w  &n  ani4slflg  description  of  Sir  Patrick  in  the  Hyndford  MS.  written  about 
.  1704,  and  piiuied  among  the  Carstairs  Papers.  ''He  is  a  lover  of  se*  ^^pecchcs,  and  cao/ 
hardly  giv«  audience  to  private  friends  without  them," 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


235 


member  of  the  Club.*  He  hated  monarchy;  he  hated 
democracy:  his  favorite  project  was  to  make  Scotland  an 
oligarchical  republic.  The  King,  if  there  must  be  a  King, 
was  to  be  a  mere  pageant.  The  lowest  class  of  the  people 
were  to  be  bondsmen.  The  whole  power,  legislative  and 
executive,  was  to  be  in  the  hands  of  the  Parliament.  In 
other  words,  the  country  was  to  be  absolutely  governed 
by  a  hereditary  aristocracy,  the  most  needy,  the  most 
haughty,  and  the  most  quarrelsome  in  Europe.  Under 
.such  a  polity  there  could  have  been  neither  freedom  nor 
tranquillity.  Trade,  industry,  science,  would  have  lan- 
guished; and  Scotland  would  have  been  a  smaller  Poland, 
with  a  puppet  sovereign,  a  turbulent  diet,  and  an  enslaved 
people.  With  unsuccessful  candidates  for  office,  and  with 
honest  but  wrong-headed  republicans,  were  mingled  politi- 
cians whose  course  was  determined  merely  by  fear.  Many 
sycophants,  who  were  conscious  that  they  had,  in  the  evil 
time,  done  what  deserved  punishment,  were  desirous  to 
make  their  peace  with  the  powerful  and  vindictive  Club, 
and  were  glad  to  be  permitted  to  atone  for  their  servility 
to  James  by  their  opposition  to  William. f  The  great  body 
of  Jacobites  meanwhile  stood  aloof,  saw  with  delight  the 
enemies  of  the  House  of  Stuart  divided  against  one  another, 
and  indulged  the  hope  that  the  confusion  would  end  in  the 
restoration  of  the  banished  King.f 

While  Montgomery  was  laboring  to  form  out  of  various 
materials  a  party  which  might,  when  the  Convention 
should  reassemble,  be  powerful  enough  to  dictate  to  the 
throne,  an  enemy  still  more  formidable  than  Montgomery 
had  set  up  the  standard  of  civil  war  in  a  region  about 
which  the  politicians  of  Westminster,  and  indeed  most  of 
the  politicians  of  Edinburgh,  knew  no  more  than  about 
Abyssinia  or  Japan. 

It  is  not  easy  for  a  modern  Englishman,  who  can  pass 
in  a  day  from  his  club  in  St.  James's  Street  to  his  shooting 
box  among  the  Grampians,  and  who  finds  in  his  shooting 
box  all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  his  club,  to  believe 
that,  in  the  time  of  his  great-grandfathers,  St.  James's 
Street  had  as  little  connection  with  the  Grampians  as 


*  ''No  man,  though  not  a  member,  busier  than  Saltoun." — Lockhart  to  Melville,  July 
XI,  1689;  Leven  and  Melville  Papers.  See  Fletcher's  own  works,  and  the  descriptions  of 
him  in  Lockhart's  and  Mackay's  Memoirs. 

t  Dalrymple  says,  in  a  letter  of  the  5th  of  June,  "All  the  malignants,  for  fear,  are 
oorae  into  the  Club;  and  they  all  vote  alike." 

^  BalcarraSp 


236 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


with  the  Andes.  Yet  so  it  was.  In  the  south  of  oui* 
island  scarcely  anything  was  known  about  the  Celtic 
part  of  Scotland;  and  what  was  known  excited  no  feel- 
ing but  contempt  and  loathing.  The  crags  and  the  glens, 
the  woods  and  the  waters,  were  indeed  the  same  that  now 
swarm  every  autumn  with  admiring  gazers  and  sketch- 
ers.  The  Trosachs  wound  as  now  between  gigantic  walls 
of  rock  tapestried  with  broom  and  wild  roses:  Foyers 
came  headlong  down  through  the  birch  wood  with  the 
same  leap  and  the  same  roar  with  which  he  still  rushes  to 
Loch  Ness;  and,  in  defiance  of  the  sun  of  June,  the  snowy 
scalp  of  Ben  Cruachan  rose,  as  it  still  rises,  over  the  wil- 
lowy islets  of  Loch  Awe.  Yet  none  of  these  sights  had 
power,  till  a  recent  period,  to  attract  a  single  poet  or 
painter  from  more  opulent  and  more  tranquil  regions. 
Indeed  law  and  police,  trade  and  industry,  have  done 
far  more  than  people  of  romantic  dispositions  will 
readily  admit,  to  develop  in  our  minds  a  sense  of  the 
wilder  beauties  of  nature.  A  traveller  must  be  freed  from 
all  apprehension  of  being  murdered  or  starved  before  he 
can  be  charmed  by  the  bold  outlines  and  rich  tints  of  the 
hills.  He  is  not  likely  to  be  thrown  into  ecstacies  by  the 
abruptness  of  a  precipice  from  which  he  is  in  imminent  dan- 
ger of  falling  two  thousand  feet  perpendicular;  by  the 
boiling  waves  of  a  torrent  which  suddenly  whirls  away  his 
baggage  and  forces  him  to  run  for  his  life;  by  the  gloomy 
grandeur  of  a  pass  where  he  finds  a  corpse  which  marau- 
ders have  just  stripped  and  mangled;  or  by  the  screams  of 
those  eagles  whose  next  meal  may  probably  be  on  his  own 
eyes.  About  the  year  1730,  Captain  Burt,  one  of  the  first 
Englishmen  who  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  spots  which  now 
allure  tourists  from  every  part  of  the  civilized  world,  wrote 
an  account  of  his  wanderings.  He  was  evidently  a  man 
of  a  quick,  an  observant  and  a  cultivated  mind,  and  would 
doubtless,  had  he  lived  in  our  age,  have  looked  with  min- 
gled awe  and  delight  on  the  mountains  of  Invernesshire. 
But,  writing  with  the  feeling  which  was  universal  in  his 
own  age,  he  pronounced  those  mountains  monstrous  ex- 
crescences. Their  deformity,  he  said,  was  such  that  the 
most  sterile  plains  seemed  lovely  by  comparison.  Fine 
weather,  he  complained,  only  made  bad  worse;  for,  the 
clearer  the  day,  the  more  disagreeably  did  those  misshap- 
en masses  of  gloomy  brown  and  dirty  purple  affect  the 
eye.    What  a  contrast,  he  exclaimed,  between  these  horri- 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


ble  prospects  and  the  beauties  of  Richmond  Hill!*  Some 
persons  may  think  that  Burt  was  a  man  of  vulgar  and 
prosaical  mind:  but  they  will  scarcely  venture  to  pass  a 
similar  judgment  on  Oliver  Goldsmith.  Goldsmith  was 
one  of  the  very  few  Saxons,  who,  more  than  a  century  ago, 
ventured  to  explore  the  Highlands.  He  was  disgusted  by 
the  hideous  wilderness,  and  declared  that  he  greatly  pre- 
ferred the  charming  country  round  Leyden,  the  vast  ex- 
panse of  verdant  meadow,  and  the  villas  with  their  statues 
and  grottoes,  tfim  flower-beds,  and  rectilinear  avenues. 
Yet  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  the  author  of  the  Travel- 
ler and  of  the  Deserted  Village  was  naturally  inferior  in 
taste  and  sensibility  to  the  thousands  of  clerks  and  milli- 
ners who  are  now  thrown  into  raptures  by  the  sight  of  Loch 
Katrine  and  Loch  Lomond. f  His  feelings  may  easily  be 
explained.  It  was  not  till  roads  had  been  cut  out  of  the 
rocks,  till  bridges  had  been  flung  over  the  courses  of  the 
rivulets,  till  inns  had  succeeded  to  dens  of  robbers,  till 
there  was  as  little  danger  of  being  slain  or  plundered  in 
the  wildest  defile  of  Badenoch  or  Lochaber  as  in  Cornhill, 
that  strangers  could  be  enchanted  [by  the  blue  dimples  of 
the  lakes  and  by  the  rainbows  which  overhung  the  water- 
falls, and  could  derive  a  solemn  pleasure  even  from  the 
clouds  and  tempests  which  lowered  on  the  mountain  tops. 

The  change  in  the  feeling  with  which  the  Lowlanders  re- 
garded the  Highland  scenery  was  closely  connected  with 
a  change  not  less  remarkable  in  the  feeling  with  which 
they  regarded  the  Highland  race.  It  is  not  strange  that 
the  Wild  Scotch,  as  they  were  sometimes  called,  should,  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  have  been  considered  by  the  Sax- 

*  Captain  Burt's  Letters  from  Scotland. 

t  "Shall  I  tire  you  with.a  description  of  this  unfruitful  country,  where  I  must  lead  you 
over  their  hills  all  brown  with  heath,  or  their  valleys  scarce  able  to  feed  a  rabbit?  .  .  . 
Every  part  of  the  country  presents  the  same  dismal  landscape.  No  grove  or  brook  lend 
theirmusic  to  cheer  thestranger." — Goldsmith  toBryanton,  Edinburgn,  Sept.  26,1753.  Ina 
letter  written  soon  after  from  Lqyden  to  the  Reverend  Thomas  Contarine,  Goldsmith  says, 
"I  was  wholly  taken  up  in  observing  the  face  of  the  country.  Nothing  can  equal  its 
beauty.  Wherever  I  turned  my  eye,  fine  houses,  elegant  gardens,  statues,  grottos,  vis- 
tas presented  themselves.  Scotland  and  this  country  bear  the  highest  contrast;  there, 
hills  and  rocks  intercept  every  prospect;  here  it  is  all  a  continued  plain."  See  Appen- 
dix C.  to  the  First  Volume  of  Mr.  Forster's  Life  of  Goldsmith.  I  will  cite  the  testimony 
of  another  man  of  genius  in  support  of  the  doctrine  propounded  in  the  text.  No  hu- 
man bein^fias  ever  had  a  finer  sense  of  the  beauties  of  nature  than  Gray.  No  prospect 
surpasses  fn  grandeur  and  loveliness  the  first  view  of  Italy  from  Mount  Cenis.  Had 
Gray  enfoyed  that  view  from  the  magnificent  road  constructed  in  this  century,  he  would 
undoubtedly  have  been  in  raptures.  But  in  his  time  the  descent  was  performed  with 
extreme  inconvenience  and  with  not  a  little  peril.  He  therefore,  instead  of  brealfing 
forth  into  ejaculations  of  admiration  and  delight,  says  most  unpoetically,  "Mount  Cenis, 
I  confess,  carries  the  permission  mountains  have  of  being  frightful  rather  too  far;  and 
its  horrors  were  accompanied  with  too  much  danger  to  ^ivc  one  time  to  reflect  upoa 
|heir  beauties,"— Gray  to  West,  Nov.  16,  1739. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


ons  as  mere  savages.  But  it  is  surely  strange  that,  con- 
sidered as  savages,  they  should  not  have  been  objects  of 
interest  and  curiosity.  The  English  were  then  abundantly 
inquisitive  about  the  manners  of  rude  nations  separated 
from  our  island  by  great  continents  and  oceans.  Numer- 
ous books  were  printed  describing  the  laws,  the  supersti- 
tions, the  cabins,  the  repasts,  the  dresses,  the  marriages, 
the  funerals  of -Laplanders  and  Hottentots,  Mohawks  and 
Malays.  The  plays  and  poems  of  that  age  are  full  of  allusions 
to  the  usages  of  the  black  men  of  Africa  and  to  the  red  men 
of  America.  The  only  barbarian  about  whom  there  was  no 
wish  to  have  any  information  was  the  Highlander.  Five  or  six 
years  after  the  Revolution,  an  indef atigible  angler  published 
an  account  of  Scotland.  He  boasted  that,  in  the  course  of  his 
rambles  from  lake  to  lake,  and  from  brook  to  brook,  he 
had  left  scarcely  a  nook  of  the  kingdom  unexplored.  But 
when  we  examine  his  narrative,  we  find  that  he  had  never 
ventured  beyond  the  extreme  skirts  of  the  Celtic  region. 
He  tells  us  that  even  from  the  people  who  lived  close  to 
the  passes  he  could  learn  little  or  nothing  about  the 
Gaelic  population.  Few  Englishmen,  he  says,  had  ever 
seen  Inverary.  All  beyond  Inverary  was  chaos. ^  In  the 
reign  of  Georg^^  the  First,  a  work  was  published  which 
professed  to  give  a  most  exact  account  of  Scotland;  and 
in  this  work^  consisting  of  more  than  three  hundred  pages, 
two  contemptuous  paragi'aphs  were  thought  sufficient  for 
the  Highlands  and  the  Highlajiders.f  We  may  well  doubt 
whether,  in  1689,  one  in  twenty  of  the  well  read  gentle- 
men who  assembled  at  Will's  coffee-house  knew  that,  with- 
in the  four  seas,  and  at  the  distance  of  less  than  five  hun- 
dred miles  from  London,  were  many  minature  courts,  in 
each  of  which  a  petty  prince,  attended  by  guards, 
by  armor  bearers^  by  musicians^  by  an  hereditary 
orator,  by  an  hereditary  poet-laureate^  kept  a  rude  state, 
dispensed  a  rude  justice,  wag^d  wars,  and  concluded 
treaties.  While  the  old  Gaelic  institutions  were  in  full 
vigor,  no  accournt  of  them  was  given  by  any  observer, 
qualified  to  judge  of  them  fairly.  Had  such  an  observer 
studied  the  character  of  the  Highlanders,  he  would  doubt- 
less have  found  in  it  closely  intermingled  the  good  and 

*  Northern  Memoirs,  by  R.  F'-'anck  Philanthropus,  1694.  The  author  had  caught 
ft  iew^glimpses  of  Highland  ece'^.try,  and  speaks,  of  it  much  as  Burt  spoke  in  tlie  follow- 
ing generation:  ''It  is  a  part  cf  the  creation  left  undressed;  rubbish  thrown  aside  when 
the  magnificent  fabric  of  the  world  was  created;  as  void  of  form  as  the  natives  are  in- 
d'1i^n»"      :r>'^r^ls  '^nd  gi>e^d  manners." 

■  ^oi*tJi«/  *4xv'j\x',^t<  Scotland  by  the  author  of  the  Journey  through  England,  1723, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


the  bad  qualities  of  an  uncivilized  nation.  He  would 
have  found  that  the  people  had  no  love  for  their  country 
or  for  their  king;  that  they  had  no  attachment  to  any  com- 
monwealth larger  than  the  clan,  or  to  any  magistrate 
superior  to  the  chief.  He  would  have  found  that  life  was 
governed  by  a  code  of  morality  and  honor  widely  different 
from  that  which  is  established  in  peaceful  and  prosperous 
societies.  He  would  have  learned  that  a  stab  in  the  back, 
or  a  shot  from  behind  a  fragment  of  rock,  were  approved 
modes  of  taking  satisfaction  for  insults.  He  would  have 
heard  men  relate  boastfully  how  they  or  their  fathers  had 
wreaked  on  hereditary  enemies  in  a  neighboring  valley 
such  vengeance  as  would  have  made  old  soldiers  of  the 
Thirty  Years'  War  shudder.  He  would  have  found  that 
robbery  was  held  to  be  a  calling,  not  merely  innocent,  but 
honorable.  He  would  have  seen,  wherever  he  turned,  that 
dislike  of  steady  industry,  and  that  disposition  to  throw 
on  the  weaker  sex  the  heaviest  part  of  manual  labor, 
which  are  characteristic  of  savages.  He  would  have  been 
struck  by  the  spectacle  of  athletic  men  basking  in  the  sun, 
angling  for  salmon,  or  taking  aim  at  grouse,  while  their 
aged  mothers,  their  pregnant  wives,  their  tender  daughters, 
were  reaping  the  scanty  harvest  of  oats.  Nor  did  the 
women  repine  at  their  hard  lot.  In  their  view  it  was 
quite  fit  that  a  man,  especially  if  he  assumed  the  aristo- 
cratic title  of  Duinhe  Wassel,  and  adorned  his  bonnet  with 
the  eagle's  feather,  should  take  his  ease,  except  when  he 
was  fighting,  hunting,  or  marauding.  To  mention  the 
name  of  such  a  man  in  connection  with  commerce  or  with 
any  mechanical  art  was  an  insult.  Agriculture  was  indeed 
less  despised.  Yet  a  high-born  warrior  was  much  more 
becomingly  employed  in  plundering  the  land  of  others 
than  in  tilling  his  own.  The  religion  of  the  greater  part 
of  the  Highlands  was  a  rude  mixture  of  Popery  and 
Paganism.  The  symbol  of  redemption  was  associated 
with  heathen  sacrifices  and  incantations.  Baptized  men 
poured  libations  of  ale  to  one  Dsemon,  and  set  out  drink 
offerings  of  milk  for  another.  Seers  wrapped  themselves 
up  in'bulls'  hides,  and  awaited,  in  that  vesture,  the  inspi- 
ration which  was  to  reveal  the  future.  Even  among  those 
minstrels  and  genealogists  whose  hereditary  vocation  was 
to  preserve  the  memory  of  past  events,  an  inquirer  would 
have  found  very  few  who  could  read.  In  truth,  he  might 
easily  have  journeyed  from  sea  to  sea  without  discovering 


MlStOkY  OF  ENGLAND. 


a  page  of  Gaelic  printed  or  written.  The  price  which  he 
would  have  had  to  pay  for  his  knowledge  of  the  coun- 
try would  have  been  heavy.  He  would  have  had  to  en- 
dure hardships  as  great  as  if  he  had  sojourned  among  the 
Esquimaux  or  the  Samoyeds.  Here  and  there,  indeed,  at 
the  castle  of  some  great  lord  who  had  a  seat  in  the  Parlia- 
ment and  Privy  Council,  and  who  was  accustomed  to  pass 
a  large  part  of  his  life  in  the  cities  of  the  South,  might  have 
been  found  wigs  and  embroidered  coats,  plate  and  fine 
linen,  lace  and  jewels,  French  dishes  and  French  wines. 
But,  in  general,  the  traveller  would  have  been  forced  to 
content  himself  with  very  different  quarters.  In  many 
dwellings  the  furniture,  the  food,  the  clothing,  nay  the 
very  hair  and  skin  of  his  hosts,  would  have  put  his  philos- 
ophy to  the  proof.  His  lodging  would  sometimes  have 
been  in  a  hut  of  which  every  nook  would  have  swarmed 
with  vermin.  He  would  have  inhaled  an  atmosphere  thick 
with  peat  smoke,  and  foul  with  a  hundred  noisome  exhala- 
tions. At  supper  grain  fit  only  for  horses  would  have 
been  set  before  him,  accompanied  by  a  cake  of  blood 
drawn  from  living  cows.  Some  of  the  company  with 
which  he  would  have  feasted  would  have  been  covered 
with  cutaneous  eruptions,  and  others  would  have  been 
smeared  with  tar,  like  sheep.  His  couch  would  have  been 
the  bare  earth,  dry  or  wet  as  the  weather  might  be;  and 
from  that  couch  he  would  have  risen  half  poisoned  with 
stench,  half  blind  with  the  reek  of  turf,  and  half  mad  with 
the  itch.* 

This  is  not  an  attractive  picture.  And  yet  an  enlight- 
ened and  dispassionate  observer  would  have  found  in  the 
character  and  manners  of  this  rude  people  something  which 
might  well  excite  admiration  and  a  good  hope.  Their 
courage  was  what  great  exploits  achieved  in  all  the  four 
quarters  of  the  globe  have  since  proved  it  to  be.  Their 
intense  attachment  to  their  own  tribe  and  to  their  own 
patriarch,  though  politically  a  great  evil,  partook  of  the 
nature  of  virtue.  The  sentiment  was  misdirected  and  ill 
regulated;  but  still  it  was  heroic.  There  must  be  some 
elevation  of  soul  in  a  man  who  loves  the  society  of  which 
he  is  a  member  and  the  leader  whom  he  follows  with  a  love 

♦  Almost  all  these  circumstances  are  taken  from  Burt's  Letters.  For  the  tar  I  am  in* 
debted  to  Cleland's  poetry.    In  his  verses  on  the  ''Highland  Host"  he  says: 

The  reason  is,  they're  smeared  with  tar, 
Which  doth  defend  their  head  and  neck, 
Just  as  it  doth  their  sheep  protect,"  j 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


Stronger  than  the  love  of  life.  It  was  true  that  the  High- 
lander had  few  scruples  about  shedding  the  blood  of  an 
enemy:  but  it  was  not  less  true  that  he  had  high  notions 
of  the  duty  of  observing  faith  to  allies  and  hospitality  to 
guests.  It  was  true  that  his  predatory  habits  were  most 
pernicious  to  the  commonwealth.  Yet  those  erred  greatly 
who  imagined  that  he  bore  any  resemblance  to  villains 
who,  in  rich  and  well  governed  communities,  live  by  steal- 
ing. When  he  drove  before  him  the  herds  of  Lowland 
farmers  up  the  pass  which  led  to  his  native  glen,  he  no 
more  considered  himself  as  a  thief  than  the  Raleighs  and 
Drakes  considered  themselves  as  thieves  when  they  di- 
vided the  cargoes  of  Spanish  galleons.  He  was  a  warrior 
seizing  lawful  prize  of  war,  of  war  never  once  intermitted 
during  the  thirty-five  generations  which  had  passed  away 
since  the  Teutonic  invaders  had  driven  the  children  of  the 
soil  to  the  mountains.  That,  if  he  was  caught  robbing  on 
such  principles,  he  should,  for  the  protection  of  peaceful 
industry,  be  punished  with  the  utmost  rigor  of  the  law,  was 
perfectly  just.  But  it  was  not  just  to  class  him  morally 
with  the  pickpockets  who  infested  Drury  Lane  Theater, 
or  the  highwaymen  who  stopped  coaches  on  Blackheath. 
His  inordinate  pride  of  birth  and  his  contempt  for  labor  and 
trade  were  indeed  great  weaknesses,  and  had  done  far 
more  than  the  inclemency  of  the  air  and  the  sterility  of  the 
soil  to  keep  his  country  poor  and  rude.  Yet  even  here 
there  was  some  compensation.  It  must  in  fairness  be 
acknowledged  that  the  patrician  virtues  were  not  less 
widely  diffused  among  the  population  of  the  Highlands 
than  the  patrician  vices.  As  there  was  no  other  part  of 
the  island  where  men,  sordidly  clothed,  lodged,  and  fed, 
indulged  themselves  to  such  a  degree  in  the  idle  saunter- 
ing habits  of  an  aristocracy,  so  there  was  no  other  part  of 
the  island  where  such  men  had  in  such  a  degree  the  better 
qualities  of  an  aristocracy,  grace  and  dignity  of  manner, 
self-respect,  and  that  noble  sensibility  which  makes  dis- 
honor more  terrible  than  death.  A  gentleman  of  Sky  or 
Lochaber,  whose  clothes  were  begrimed  with  the  accuftiu- 
lated  filth  of  years,  and  whose  hovel  smelt  worse  than  an 
English  hog-stye,  would  often  dg  the  honors  of  that  hovel 
with  a  lofty  courtesy  worthy  of  the  splendid  circle  of  Ver- 
sailles. Though  he  had  as  little  book-learning  as  the  most 
stupid  plough-boys  of  England,  it  would  have  been  a  great 
error  to  put  him  in  th^  same  intellectual  r^nk  with  such 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


plough-boys.  It  is  indeed  only  by  reading  that  men  can  be- 
come profoundly  acquainted  with  any  science.  But  the  arts 
of  poetry  and  rhetoric  may  be  carried  near  to  absolute  per- 
fection, and  may  exercise  a  mighty  influence  on  the  public 
mind,  in  an  age  in  which  books  are  wholly,  or  almost  wholly, 
unknown.  The  first  great  painter  of  life  and  manners  has 
described  with  a  vivacity  which  makes  it  impossible  to 
doubt  that  he  was  copying  from  nature,  the  effect  produced 
by  eloquence  and  song  on  audiences  ignorant  of  the  alpha- 
bet. It  is  probable  that,  in  the  Highland  councils,  men 
who  would  not  have  been  qualified  for  the  duty  of  parish 
clerk  sometimes  argued  questions  of  peace  and  war,  of 
tribute  and  homage,  with  ability  worthy  of  Halifax  and 
Caermarthen,  and  that,  at  the  Highland  banquets,  minstrels 
who  did  not  know  their  letters  sometimes  poured  forth  rhap- 
sodies in  which  a  discerning  critic  might  have  found  pas- 
sages such  as  would  have  reminded  him  of  the  tenderness 
of  Otway  or  of  the  vigor  of  Dryden. 

There  was  therefore  even  then  evidence  sufficient  to  jus- 
tify the  belief  that  no  nat.ural  inferiority  had  kept  the  Celt  far 
behind  the  Saxon.  It  might  safely  have  been  predicted 
that,  if  ever  an  efficient  police  should  make  it  impossible 
for  the  Highlander  to  avenge  his  wrongs  by  violence  and  to 
supply  his  wants  by  rapine,  if  ever  his  faculties  should  be 
developed  by  the  civilizing  influence  of  the  Protestant  re- 
ligion and  of  the  English  language,  if  ever  he  should  trans- 
fer to  his  country  and  to  her  lawful  magistrates  the  affec- 
tion and  respect  with  which  he  had  been  taught  to  regard 
his  own  petty  community  and  his  own  petty  prince,  the 
kingdom  would  obtain  an  immense  accession  of  strength 
for  all  the  purposes  both  of  peace  and  of  war. 

Such  would  doubtless  have  been  the  decision  of  a  well- 
informed  and  impartial  judge.  But  no  such  .judge  was 
then  to  be  found.  The  Saxons  who  dwelt  far  from  the 
Gaelic  provinces  could  not  be  well  informed.  The  Saxons 
who  dwelt  near  those  provinces  could  not  be  impartial. 
National  enmities  have  always  been  fiercest  among  border- 
ers; and  the  enmity  between  the  Highland  borderer  and 
the  Lowland  borderer  along  the  whole  frontier  was  the 
growth  of  ages,  and  was  kept  fresh  by  constant  injuries. 
One  day  many  square  miles  of  pasture  land  were  swept 
bare  by  armed  plunderers  from  the  hills.  Another  day 
a  score  of  plaids  dangled  in  a  row  on  the  gallows  of  Crieff 
Qr  Stirling.    Fairs  were  indeed  held  on  the  debatable  land 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


for  the  necessary  interchange  of  commodities.  But  to 
those  fairs  both  parties  came  prepared  for  battle;  and  the 
day  often  ended  in  bloodshed.  Thws  the  Highlander  was 
an  object  of  hatred  to  his  Saxon  neighbors;  and  from  his 
Saxon  neighbors  those  Saxons  who  dwelt  far  from  him 
learned  the  very  little  that  they  cared  to  know  about  his 
habits.  When  the  English  condescended  to  think  of  him 
at  all, — and  it  was  seldom  that  they  did  so, — they  consid- 
•ered  him  as  a  filthy  abject  savage,  a  slave,  a  Papist,  a  cut- 
throat, and  a  thief.* 

This  contemptuous  loathing  lasted  till  the  year  1745,  and 
was  then  for  a  moment  succeeded  by  intense  fear  and 
rage.  England,  thoroughly  alarmed,  put  forth  her  whole 
strength.  The  Highlands  were  subjugated  rapidly,  com- 
pletely, and  forever.  During  a  short  time  the  English 
nation,  still  heated  by  the  recent  conflict,  breathed  nothing 
but  vengeance.  The  slaughter  on  the  field  of  battle  and 
on  the  scaffold  was  not  sufficient  to  slake  the  public  thirst  for 
blood.  The  sight  of  the  tartan  infl-amed  the  populace  of 
London  with  hatred  which  showed  itself  by  unmanly  out- 
rages to  defenceless  captives.  A  political  and  social  revo- 
lution took  place  through  the  whole  Celtic  region.  The  pow- 
er of  the  chiefs  was  destroyed:  the  people  were  disarmed: 
the  use  o-f  the  old  national  garb  was  interdicted :  the  old  pre- 


*  A  striking  illustration  of  the  opinion  which  was  entertained  of  the  Highlander  by 
his  Lowland  neighbors,  and  which  was  by  them  communicated  to  the  English,  will  be 
found  in  a  volume  of  Miscellanies'published  by  Afra  Behn  in  1685.  One  of  the  most  cu- 
rious pieces  in  the  collection  is  a  coarse  and  profane  Scotch  poem  entitled,  ''How  the 
first  Hielandman  was  made."  How  and  of  what  materials  he  was  made  I  shall  not 
venture  to  relate.  The  dialogue  which  immediately  follows  his  creation  may  be  quoted. 
I  hope,  without  much  offence: 

Says  God  to  the  Hielandman,  'Quhair  wilt  thou  now?' 
'I  will  down  to  the  Lowlands,  Lord,  and  there  steal  a  cow.' 
*Ffy,'  quod  St.  Peter,  'thou  wilt  never  do  weel, 
*An  thou,  but  new  made,  so  sune  gais  to  steal,' 
'Urnff,'  quod  the  Hielandman,  and  swore  by  yon  kirk, 
'So  long  as  I  may  geir  get  to  steal,  will  I  nevir  work,'  " 

An  eminent  Lowland  Scot,  the  brave  Colonel  Cleland," about  the  same  time,  described 
the  Highlander  in  the  same  manner: 

"For  a  misobliging  word 
She'll  dirk  her  neighbour  o'er  the  board, 
If  any  ask  her  of  her  drift. 
Forsooth,  her  nainself  lives  by  theft." 

Much  to  the  same  effect  are  the  very  few  words  which  Franck  Philanthropus  (1694) 
spares  to  the  Highlanders:  "They  live  like  lairds  and  die  like  loons,  hating  to  work  and 
no  credit  to  borrow:  they  make  depredations  and  rob  their  neighbours, "  In  the  History 
of  the  Revolution  in  Scotland,  printed  at  Edinburgh  in  1690,  is  the  following  passage: 
''The  Highlanders  of  Scotland  are  a  sort  of  wretches  that  have  no  other  consideration 
of  honour,  friendship,  obedience,  or  government,  than  as,  by  any  alteration  of  affairs 
or  revolution  in  the  government,  they  can  improve  to  themselves  an  opportunity  of  rob» 
bing  or  plundering  their  bordering  neighbours. 


«44 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


datory  habks  were  effectually  broken;  and  scarcely  had 
this  change  been  accomplished  when  a  strange  reflux  of 
public  feeling  began.  Pity  succeeded  to  aversion.  The 
•nation  execrated  the  cruelties  which  had  been  committed 
on  the  Highlanders,  and  forgot  that  for  those  cruelties  it 
was  itself  answerable.  Those  very  Londoners,  who,  while 
the  memory  of  the  march  to  Derby  was  still  fresh,  had 
thronged  to  hoot  and  pelt  the  rebel  prisoners,  now  fasten- 
ed on  the  prince  who  had  put  down  the  rebellion  the  nick- 
name of  butcher.  Those  barbarous  institutions  and  usages, 
which,  while  they  were  in  full  force,  no  Saxon  had  thought 
worthy  of  serious  examination,  or  had  mentioned  except 
with  contempt,  had  no  sooner  ceased  to  exist  than  they 
became  objects  of  curiosity,  of  interest,  even  of  admira- 
tion. Scarcely  had  the  chiefs  been  turned  into  mere  land- 
lords, when  it  became  the  fashion  to  draw  invidious  com- 
parisons between  the  rapacity  of  the  landlord  and  the  in- 
dulgence of  the  chief.  Men  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that 
the  ancient  Gaelic  polity  had  been  found  to  be  incom- 
patible with  the  authority  of  law,  had  obstructed  the 
progress  of  civilization,  had  more  than  once  brought  on 
the  empire  the  curse  of  civil  war.  As  they  had  formerly 
seen  only  the  odious  side  of  that  polity,  they  could  now  see 
only  the  pleasing  side.  The  old  tie,  they  said,  had  been 
parental:  the  new  tie  was  purely  commercial.  What  could 
be  more  lamentable  than  that  the  head  of  a  tribe  should 
eject,  for  a  paltry  arrear  of  rent,  tenants  who  were  his 
own  flesh  and  blood,  tenants  whose  forefathers  had  often 
with  their  bodies  covered  his  forefathers  on  the  field  of 
battle?  As  long  as  there  were  Gaelic  marauders,  they  had 
been  regarded  by  the  Saxon  population  as  hateful  vermin 
who  ought  to  be  exterminated  without  mercy.  As  soon  as 
the  extermination  had  been  accomplished,  as  soon  as  cattle 
were  as  safe  in  the  Perthshire  passes  as  in  Smithfield  mar- 
ket, the  freebooter  was  exalted  into  a  hero  of  romance. 
As  long  as  the  Gaelic  dress  was  worn,  the  Saxons  had 
pronounced  it  hideous,  ridiculous,  nay,  grossly  indecent. 
Soon  after  it  had  been  prohibited,  they  discovered  that  it 
was  the  most  graceful  drapery  in  Europe.  The  Gaelic 
monuments,  the  Gaelic  usages,  the  Gaelic  superstitions, 
the  Gaelic  verses,  disdainfully  neglected  during  many 
ages,  began  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  learned  from 
the  moment  at  which  the  peculiarities  of  the  Gaelic 
race  began  to  disappear.  So  strong  was  this  impulse  that, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


where  the  Highlands  were  concerned,  men  of  sense  gave 
ready  credence  to  stories  without  evidence,  and  men  of 
taste  gave  rapturous  applause  to  compositions  without 
merit.  Epic  poems,  which  any  skillful  and  dispassionate 
critic  would  at  a  glance  have  perceived  to  be  almost  en- 
tirely modern,  and  which,  if  they  had  been  published  as  mod- 
ern, would  have  instantly  found  their  proper  place  in  com- 
pany with  Blackmore's  Alfred  and  Wilkie's  Epigoniad,  were 
pronounced  to  be  fifteen  hundred  years  old,  and  were 
gravely  classed  with  the  Iliad.  Writers  of  a  very  differ- 
ent order  from  the  imposter  who  fabricated  tliese  forgeries 
saw  how  striking  an  effect  might  be  produced  by  skillful 
pictures  of  the  old  Highland  life.  Whatever  was  repul- 
sive was  softened  down:  whatever  was  graceful  and  noble 
was  brought  prominently  forward.  Some  of  these  works 
were  executed  with  such  admirable  art  that,  like  the  his- 
torical plays  of  Shakespeare,  they  superseded  history. 
The  visions  of  the  poet  were  realities  to  his  readers.  The 
places  which  he  described  became  holy  ground,  and  were 
visited  by  thousands  of  pilgrims.  Soon  the  vulgar  imag- 
ination was  so  completely  occupied  by  plaids,  targets,  and 
claymores,  that,  by  most  Englishmen,  Scotchman  and 
Highlander  were  regarded  as  synonymous  words.  Few 
people  seemed  to  be  aware  that,  ar  no  remote  period,  a 
Macdonald  or  a  Macgregor  in  his  tartan  was  to  a  citizen 
of  Edinburgh  or  Glasgow  what  an  Indian  hunter  in  his 
war  paint  is  to  an  inhabitant  of  Philadelphia  or  Boston. 
Artists  and  actors  represented  Bruce  and  Douglas  in 
striped  petticoats.  They  might  as  well  have  represented 
Washington  brandishing  a  tomahawk,  and  girt  with  a 
string  of  scalps.  At  length  this  fashion  reached  a  point 
beyond  which  it  was  not  easy  to  proceed.  The  last  British 
King  who  held  a  court  in  Holyrood  thought  that  he  could 
not  give  a  more  striking  proof  of  his  respect  for  the  us- 
ages which  had  prevailed  in  Scotland  before  the  Union, 
than  by  disguising  himself  in  what,  before  the  Union,  was 
considered  by  nine  Scotchmen  out  of  ten  as  the  dress  of  a 
thief. 

Thus  it  has  chanced  that  the  old  Gaelic  institutions  and 
manners  have  never  been  exhibited  in  the  simple  light  of 
truth.  Up  to  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  they  were 
seen  through  one  false  medium:  they  have  since  been  seen 
through  another.  Once  they  loomed  dimly  through  an 
obscuring  and  distorting  haze  of  prejudice;  and  no  sooner 


246 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


had  that  fog  dispersed  than  they  appeared  bright  wltti  al^ 
the  richest  tints  of  poetry.  The  time  when  a  perfectly 
fair  picture  could  have  been  painted  has  now  passed  away. 
The  original  has  long  disappeared:  no  authentic  effigy 
exists;  and  all  that  is  possible  is  to  produce  an  imperfect 
likeness  by  the  help  of  two  portraits,  of  which  one  is  a 
coarse  caricature  and  the  other  a  masterpiece  of  flattery. 

Among  the  erroneous  notions  which  have  been  commonly 
received  concerning  the  history  and  character  of  the  High- 
landers is  one  which  it  is  especially  necessary  to  correct. 
During  the  century  which  commenced  with  the  campaign 
of  Montrose,  and  terminated  with  the  campaign  of  the 
young  Pretender,  every  great  military  exploit  which  was 
achieved  on  British  ground  in  the  cause  of  the  House  of 
Stuart  was  achieved  by  the  valor  of  Gaelic  tribes.  The 
English  have  therefore  very  naturally  ascribed  to  those 
tribes  the  feelings  of  English  cavaliers,  profound  reverence 
for  the  royal  office,  and  enthusiastic  attachment  to  the 
royal  family.  A  close  inquiry  however  will  show  that  the 
strength  of  these  feelings  among  the  Celtic  clans  has  been 
greatly  exaggerated. 

In  studying  the  history  of  our  civil  contentions,  we  must 
never  forget  that  the  same  names,  badges,  and  war-cries 
had  very  different  meaning,  in  different  parts  of  the  British 
isles.  We  have  already  seen  how  little  there  was  in  com- 
mon between  the  Jacobitism  of  Ireland  and  the  Jacobitism 
of  England.  The  Jacobitism  of  the  Scotch  Highlander 
was,  at  least  in  the  seventeenth  century,  a  third  variety, 
quite  distinct  from  the  other  two.  The  Gaelic  population 
was  far  indeed  from  holding  the  doctrines  of  passive  obe- 
dience and  non-resistance.  In  fact  disobedience  and  resist- 
ance made  up  the  ordinary  life  of  that  population.  Some 
of  those  very  clans  which  it  has  been  the  fashion  to  de- 
scribe as  so  enthusiastically  loyal  that  they  were  prepared 
to  stand  by  James  to  the  death,  even  when  he  was  in  the 
wrong,  had  never,  while  he  was  on  the  throne,  paid  the 
smallest  respect  to  his  authority,  even  when  he  was  clearly 
in  the  right.  Their  practice,  their  calling,  had  been  to 
disobey  and  to  defy  him.  Some  of  them  had  actually  been 
proscribed  by  sound  of  horn  for  the  crime  of  withstanding 
his  lawful  commands,  and  would  have  torn  to  pieces  with- 
out scruple  any  of  his  officers  who  had  dared  to  venture 
beyond  the  passes  for  the  purpose  of  executing  his  warrant 
The  English  Whigs  were  accused  by  their  opponents  oi 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


247 


holding  doctrines  dangerously  lax  touching  the  obedience 
due  to  the  chief  magistrate.  Yet  no  respectable  English 
Whig  ever  defended  rebellion,  except  as  a  rare  and  extreme 
remedy  for  rare  and  extreme  evils.  But  among  those 
Celtic  chiefs  whose  loyalty  has  been  the  theme  of  so  much 
warm  eulogy  were  some  whose  whole  existence  from  boy- 
hood upwards  had  been  one  long  rebellion.  Such  men,  it 
is  evident,  were  not  likely  to  see  the  Revolution  in  the  light 
in  which  it  appeared  to  an  Oxonian  non-juror.  On  the 
other  hand  they  were  not,  like  the  aboriginal  Irish,  urged 
to  take  arms  by  impatience  of  Saxon  domination.  To  such 
domination  the  Scottish  Celt  had  never  been  subjected. 
He  occupied  his  own  wild  and  sterile  region,  and  followed 
his  own  national  usages.  In  his  dealings  with  the  Saxons, 
he  was  rather  the  oppressor  than  the  oppressed.  He  ex- 
acted blackmail  from  them:  he  drove  away  their  flocks  and 
herds;  and  they  seldom  dared  to  pursue  him  to  his  native 
wilderness.  They  had  never  portioned  out  among  themselves 
his  dreary  region  of  moor  and  shingle.  He  had  never  seen  the 
tower  of  his  hereditary  chieftains  occupied  by  an  usurper 
who  could  not  speak  Gaelic,  and  who  looked  on  all  who 
spoke  it  as  brutes  and  slaves:  nor  had  his  national  and  re- 
ligious feelings  ever  been  outraged  by  the  power  and  splen- 
dor of  a  church  which  he  regarded  as  at  once  foreign  and 
heretical. 

The  real  explanation  of  the  readiness  with  which  a  large 
part  of  the  population  of  the  Highlands,  twice  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  drew  the  sword  for  the  Stuarts,  is  to  be 
found  in  the  internal  quarrels  which  divided  the  common- 
wealth of  clans.  For  there  was  a  commonwealth  of  clans, 
the  image,  on  a  reduced  scale,  of  the  great  commonwealth 
of  European  nations.  In  the  smaller  of  these  two  com- 
monwealths, as  in  the  larger,  there  were  wars,  treaties, 
alliances,  disputes  about  territory  and  precedence,  a  system 
of  public  law,  a  balance  of  power.  There  was  one  inex- 
haustible source  of  discontents  and  quarrels.  The  feudal 
system  had,  some  centuries  before,  been  introduced  into 
the  hill  country,  but  had  neither  destroyed  the  patriarchal 
system  nor  amalgamated  completely  with  it.  In  general, 
he  who  was  lord  in  the  Norman  polity  was  also  chief  of 
the  Celtic  polity;  and,  when  this  was  the  case,  there 
was  no  conflict.  But,  when  the  two  characters  were  sepa- 
rated, all  the  willing  and  loyal  obedience  was  reserved  for 
the  chief,    The  lord  h^d  only  what  he  could  get  and  hol4 


24? 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


by  force.  If  he  was  able,  by  the  help  of  his  own  tribe,  to 
keep  In  subjection  tenants  who  were  not  of  his  own  tribe, 
there  was  a  tyranny  of  clan  over  clan,  the  most  galling, 
perhaps,  of  all  forms  of  tyranny.  At  different  times  dif- 
ferent races  had  risen  to  an  authority  which  had  produced 
general  fear  and  envy.  The  Macdonalds  had  once  posses- 
sed, in  the  Hebrides  and  throughout  the  mountain  country 
of  Argyleshire  and  Ivernesshire,  an  ascendency  similar  to 
that  which  the  House  of  Austria  had  once  possessed  in 
ChtTStendom.  But  the  ascendency  of  the  Macdonalds 
had,  like  the  ascendency  of  the  House  of  Austria,  passed 
aw<?iy;  and  the  Campbells,  the  children  of  Diarmid,  had 
become  in  the  Highlands  what  the  Bourbons  had  be- 
come in  Europe.*  The  parallel  might  be  carried  far. 
Imputations  similar  to  those  which  it  was  the  fashion  to 
throw  on  the  French  government  were  thrown  on  the 
Campbells.  A  peculiar  dexterity,  a  peculiar  plausibility 
of  address,  a  pecular  contempt  for  the  obligations  of 
plighted  faith,  were  ascribed,  with  or  without  reason,  to 
the  dreaded  race.  Fair  and  false  like  a  Campbell,"  be- 
came a  proverb.  It  was  said  that  Mac  Callum  More  after 
Mac  Callum  More  had,  with  unwearied,  unscrupulous,  and 
unrelenting  ambition,  annexed  mountain  after  mountain 
and  island  after  island  to  the  original  domains  of  his 
House.  Some  tribes  had  been  expelled  from  their  terri- 
tory, some  compelled  to  pay  tribute,  some  incorporated 
with  the  conquerors.  At  length  the  number  of  fighting 
men  who  bore  the  name  of  Campbell  was  sufficient  to 
meet  in  the  field  of  battle  the  combined  forces  of  all  the 
other  western  clans.  It  was  during  those  civil  troubles  which 
commenced  in  1638  that  the  power  of  this  aspiring  family 
reached  the  zenith.  The  Marquess  of  Argyle  was  the 
head  of  a  party  as  well  as  the  head  of  a  tribe.  Possessed 
of  two  different  kinds  of  authority,  he  used  each 
of  them  in  such  a  way  as  to  extend  and  fortify  the 
other.  The  knowledge  that  he  could  bring  into  the  field 
the  claymores  of  five  thousand  half  heathen  mountaineers 
added  to  his  influence  among  the  austere  Presbyterians 
who  filled  the  Privy  Council  and  the  General  Assembly  of 
Edinburgh.    His  influence  at  Edinburgh  added  to  the  ter- 

♦  Since  this  passage  was  written  I  was  much  pleased  by  finding  that  Lord  Fountain- 
hall  used,  in  July  1676,  exactly  the  same  illustration  which  had  occurred  to  me.  He 
says  that  ''Argyle's  ambitious  grasping  at  the  mastery  of  the  Highlands  and  Western 
Islands  of  Mull,  Ila.  &c.,  stirred  up  other  clans  to  enter  into  a  combination  for  bearing 
him  downe,  like  the  confederat  forces  of  Gernianie,  Spain,  Holland  ^Ci  Against  thf 
growth  of  the  French," 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


ror  which  he  inspired  among  the  mountains.    Of  'nburgh, 
Highland  Princes  whose  history  is  well  known  to  ushe>  j^^^j' 
the  greatest  and  most  dreaded.    It  was  while  his  neighbOi 
were  watching  the  increase  of  his  power  with  hatred  which 
fear  could  scarcely  keep  down  that  Montrose  called  them 
to  arms.  The  call  was  promptly  obeyed.  A  powerful  coali- 
tion of  clans  waged  w^ar,  nominally  for  King  Charles,  but 
really  against  Mac  Galium  More.    It  is  not  easy  for  any 
person  who  has  studied  the  history  of  that  contest  to  doubt 
that,  if  Argyle  had  supported  the  cause  of  monarchy,  his 
neighbors  would  have  declared  against  it.    Grave  writers 
tell  of  the  victory  gained  at  Iverlochy  by  the  royalists  over 
the  rebels.    But  the  peasants  who  dwell  near  the  spot 
speak  more  accurately.    They  talk  of  the  great  battle  won 
there  by  the  Macdonalds  over  the  Campbells. 

The  feelings  which  had  produced  the  coalition  against 
the  Marquess  of  Argyle  retained  their  force  long  after  his 
death.  His  son.  Earl  Archibald,  though  a  man  of  many 
eminent  virtues,  inherited,  with  the  ascendency  of  his  an- 
cestors, the  unpopularity  which  such  ascendency  could 
scarcely  fail  to  produce.  In  1675,  several  warlike  tribes 
formed  a  confederacy  against  him,  but  were  compelled  to 
submit  to  the  superior  fprce  which  was  at  his  command. 
There  was  therefore  great  joy  from  sea  to  sea  when,  in 
1681;  he  was  arraigned  on  a  futile  charge,  condemned  to 
death,  driven  into  exile,  and  deprived  of  his  dignities:  there 
was  great  alarm  when,  in  1685,  he  returned  from  banish- 
ment, and  sent  forth  the  fiery  cross  to  summon  his  kins- 
men to  his  standard;  and  there  was  again  great  joy  when 
his  enterprise  had  failed,  when  his  army  had  melted  away, 
when  his  head  had  been  fixed  on  the  Tolbooth  of  Edin- 
burgh, and  when  those  chiefs  who  had  regarded  him  as  an 
oppressor  had  obtained  from  the  Crown,  on  easy  terms,  re- 
missions of  old  debts  and  grants  of  new  titles.  While 
England  and  Scotland  generally  were  execrating  the  tyf- 
anny  of  James,  he  was  honored  as  a  deliverer  in  Appin  and 
Lochaber,  in  Glenroy  and  Glenmore.*  The  hatred  excited 
by  the  power  and  ambition  of  the  House  of  Argyle  was  not 
satisfied  even  when  the  head  of  that  House  had  perished, 
when  his  children  were  fugitives,  when  strangers  garrisoned 

*  In  the  introduction  to  the  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron  is  a  very  sensible  remark: 
"It  may  appear  paradoxical:  but  the  editor  cannot  help  hazarding  the  conjecture  that 
the  motives  which  prompted  the  Highlanders  to  support  King  James  were  substantially 
the  same  as  those  by  which  the  promoters  of  the  Revolution  were  actuated."  Th« 
whole  introduction,  indeed,  well  deserves  to  be  read. 
Vol.  III-9, 


245 

HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

by  force. 

keep  In  --^^^^  Inverary,  and  when  the  whole  shore  of  Loch 
there  been  laid  waste  by  fire  and  sword.  It  was  said  that 

pet^ie  terrible  precedent  which  had  been  set  in  the  case  of  the 
f  Macgregors  ought  to  be  followed,  and  that  it  ought  to  be 
made  a  crime  to  bear  the  odious  name  of  Campbell. 

On  a  sudden  all  was  changed.  The  Revolution  came. 
The  heir  of  Argyle  returned  in  triumph.  He  was,  as  his 
predecessors  had  been,  the  head,  not  only  of  a  tribe,  but 
of  a  party.  The  sentence  which  had  deprived  him  of  his 
estate  and  of  his  honors  was  treated  by  the  majority  of  the 
Convention  as  a  nullity.  The  doors  of  the  Parliament 
House  were  thrown  open  to  him:  he  was  selected  from  the 
whole  body  of  Scottish  nobles  to  administer  the  oath  of 
office  to  the  new  Sovereigns;  and  he  was  authorized  to 
raise  an  army  on  his  domains  for  the  service  of  the  Crown. 
He  would  now,  doubtless,  be  as  powerful  as  the  most 
powerful  of  his  ancestors.  Backed  by  the  strength  of  the 
Government,  he  would  demand  all  the  long  and  heavy  ar- 
rears of  rent  and  tribute  which  were  due  to  him  from  his 
neighbors,  and  would  exact  revenge  for  all  the  injuries  and 
insults  which  his  family  had  suffered.  There  was  terror 
and  agitation  in  the  castles  of  twenty  petty  kings.  The 
uneasiness  was  great  among  the  Stewarts  of  Appin,  whose 
territory  was  close  pressed  by  the  sea  on  one  side,  and  by 
the  race  of  Diarmid  on  the  other.  The  Macnaghtens  were 
still  more  alarmed.  Once  they  had  been  the  masters  of 
those  beautiful  valleys  through  which  the  Ara  and  the 
Shira  flow  into  Loch  Fyne.  But  the  Campbells  had  pre- 
vailed. The  Macnaghtens  had  been  reduced  to  subjection, 
and  had,  generation  after  generation,  looked  up  with  awe 
and  detestation  to  the  neighboring  Castle  of  Inverary. 
They  had  recently  been  promised  a  complete  emancipa- 
tion. A  grant,  by  virtue  of  which  their  chief  would  have 
held  his  estate  immediately  from  the  Crown,  had  been 
prepared  and  was  about  to  pass  the  seals,  when  the  Re- 
volution suddenly  extinguished  a  hope  which  amounted 
almost  to  certainty.* 

The  Macleans  remembered  that,  only  fourteen  years  be- 
fore, their  lands  had  been  invaded  and  the  seat  of  their 
chief  taken  and  garrisoned  by  the  Campbells. f    Even  be- 

*  Skene's  Highlanders  of  Scotland;  Douglas's  Baronage  of  Scotland. 

t  See  the  Memoirs  of  the  life  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron,  and  the  Historical  and  Genealog- 
ical Account  of  the  Clan  Maclean,  by  a  Senachie.  Though  this  last  work  was  published 
to  late  as  1838,  the  writer  seems  to  have  been  inflamed  by  animosity  as  fierce  as  ti^ 
with  which  the  Macleans  of  the  seventeenth  century  regarded  the  CampbclU.   In  tli 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


fore  William  and  Mary  had  been  proclaimed  at  Edinburgh, 
a  Maclean,  deputed  doubtless  by  the  head  of  his  tribe,  had 
crossed  the  sea  to  Dublin,  and  had  assured  James  that,  if 
two  or  three  battalions  from  Ireland  landed  in  Argyleshire, 
they  would  be  immediately  joined  by  four  thousand  four 
hundred  claymores.* 

A  similar  spirit  animated  the  Camerons.  Their  ruler, 
Sir  Ewan  Cameron,  of  Lochiel,  surnamed  the  Black,  was 
in  personal  qualities  unrivalled  among  the  Celtic  princes. 
He  was  a  gracious  master,  a  trusty  ally,  a  terrible  enemy. 
His  countenance  and  bearing  were  singularly  noble.  Som& 
persons  who  had  been  at  Versailles,  and  among  them  the 
shrewd  and  observant  Simon  Lord  Lovat,  said  that  there 
was,  in  person  and  manner,  a  most  striking  resemblance 
between  Lewis  the  Fourteenth  and  Lochiel;  and  whoever 
compares  the  portraits  of  the  two  will  perceive  that  there 
really  was  some  likeness.  In  stature  the  difference  was 
great.  Lewis,  in  spite  of  high-heeled  shoes  and  a  towering 
wig,  hardly  reached  the  middle  size.  Lochiel  was  tall  and 
strongly  built.  In  agility  and  skill  at  his  weapons  he  had 
few  equals  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  hills.  He  had  re- 
peatedly been  victorious  in  single  combat.  He  was  a 
hunter  of  great  fame.  He  made  vigorous  war  on  the 
wolves  which,  down  to  his  time,  preyed  on  the  red  deer  of 
the  Grampians;  and  by  his  hand  perished  the  last  of  the 
ferocious  breed  which  is  known  to  have  wandered  at  large 
in  our  island.  Nor  was  Lochiel  less  distinguished  by  in- 
tellectual than  by  bodily  vigor.  He  might  indeed  have 
seemed  ignorant  to  educated  and  travelled  Englishmen, 
who  had  studied  the  classics  under  Busby  at  Westminster 
and  under  Aldrich  at  Oxford,  who  had  learned  something 
about  the  sciences  among  Fellows  of  the  Royal  Society, 
and  something  about  the  fine  arts  in  the  galleries  of  Flor- 
ence and  Rome.  But  though  Lochiel  had  very  little 
knowledge  of  books,  he  was  eminently  wise  in  council, 
eloquent  in  debate,  ready  in  devising  expedients,  and 
skillful  in  managing  the  minds  of  men.    His  understand- 


short  compass  of  one  page  the  Marquis  of  Argyle  is  designated  as  *'the  diabolical  Scotch 
Cromwell,"  ''the  vile  vindictive  persecutor,"  ''the  base  traitor,"  and  "the  Argyle  im- 
postor." In  another  page  he  is  "the  insidious  Campbell,  fertile  in  villany,"  "the  avari- 
cious slave,"  "the  coward  of  Arffyle,"  and  "the  Scotch  traitor."  In  the  next  page  he 
is  ''the  base  and  vindictive  enemv  of  the  House  of  Maclean,"  "the  hypocrftical  Coven- 
anter," "the  incorrigible  traitor,  "the  cowardly  and  malignant  enemy."  It  is  a  hap* 
py  thing  that  passions  so  violent  can  now  vent  themselves  only  in  scolding. 

♦  Letter  of  Avaux  to  Louvois,  Apiil  6-16,  1689,  enclosing  a  paper  entitled  Memoire 
du  Chevalier  Macklean. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


ing  preserved  him  from  those  follies  into  which  pride  and 
anger  frequently  hurried  his  brother  chieftains.  Many, 
therefore,  who  regarded  his  brother  chieftains  as  mere  bar- 
barians, mentioned  him  with  respect.  Even  at  the  Dutch 
Embassy  in  Saint  James's  Square  he  was  spoken  of  as  a 
man  of  such  capacity  and  courage  that  it  would  not  be 
easy  to  find  his  equal.  As  a  patron  of  literature,  he  ranks 
with  the  magnificent  Dorset.  If  Dorset  out  of  his  own 
purse  allowed  Dryden  a  pension  equal  to  the  profits  of  the 
Laureateship,  Lochiel  is  said  to  have  bestowed  on  a  cele- 
brated bard,  who  had  been  plundered  by  marauders,  and 
who  implored  alms  in  a  pathetic  Gaelic  ode,  three  cows, 
and  the  almost  incredible  sum  of  fifteen  pounds  sterling. 
In  truth,  the  character  of  this  great  chief  was  depicted  two 
thousand  five  hundred  years  before  his  birth,  and  depicted, 
— such  is  the  power  of  genius, — in  colors  which  will  be 
fresh  as  ma-ny  years  after  his  death.  He  was  the  Ulysses 
of  the  Highlands."* 

He  held  a  large  territory  peopled  by  a  race  which  rever- 
enced no  lord,  no  king  but  himself.  For  that  territor}^, 
however,  he  owed  homage  to  the  House  of  Argyle;  and  he 
was  deeply  in  debt  to  his  feudal  superiors  for  rent.  This 
vassalage  he  had  doubtless  been  early  taught  to  consider 
as  degrading  and  unjust.  In  his  minority  he  had  been 
the  ward  in  chivalry  of  the  politic  Marquess,  and  had 
been  educated  at  the  Castle  of  Inverary.  But  at  eighteen 
the  boy  broke  loose  from  the  authority  of  his  guardian, 
and  fought  bravely  both  for  Charles  the  First  and  for 
Charles  the  Second.  He  was  therefore  considered  by  the 
English  as  a  Cavalier,  was  well  received  at  Whitehall 
after  the  Restoration,  and  was  knighted  by  the  hand  of 
James.  The  compliment,  however,  which  was  paid  to 
him,  on  one  of  his  appearances  at  the  English  Court,  would 
not  have  seemed  very  flattering  to  a  Saxon.  *Take  care 
of  your  pockets,  my  lords,"  cried  His  Majesty;  ''here 
comes  the  king  of  the  thieves."    The  loyalty  of  Lochiel  is 

*  See  the  singularly  interesting  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron  of  Lochiel,  printed  at 
Edinburgh  for  the  Abbotsford  Club  in  1842.  The  MS.  must  have  been  at  least  a  century 
older.  See  also  in  the  same  volume  the  account  of  Sir  Ewan's  death,  copied  from  the 
BaJhadie  papers.  I  ought  to  say  that  the  author  of  the  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan,  though 
evmently  well  informed  about  the  affairs  of  the  Highlands  and  the  characters  of  the 
most  distinguished  chiefs,  was  grossly  ignorant  of  English  politics  and  history.  I  will 
quote  what  Van  Citters  wrote  to  the  States  General  about  Lochiel,  ^  '     1689-  "Sir 

Evan  Cameron,  Lord  Locheale,  een  man,— soo  ik  hoor  van  die  hem  lange  gekent  en 
dagelyk  hebben  mede  omgegaan,— van  so  groot  verstant, courage,  en  beleyt,  als  weyniges 
Syns  gelycke  syn," 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


almost  proverbial;  but  it  was  very  unlike  what  was  called 
loyalty  in  England.  In  the  records  of  the  Scottish  Parlia- 
ment he  was,  in  the  days  of  Charles  the  Second,  described 
as  a  lawless  and  rebellious  man,  who  held  lands  master-, 
fully  and  in  high  contempt  of  the  royal  authority.*  On 
one  occasion  the  Sheriff  of  Invernesshire  was  directed  by 
King  James  to  hold  a  court  in  Lochaber.  Lochiel,  jealous 
of  this  interference  with  his  own  patriarchal  despotism, 
came  to  the  tribunal  at  the  head  of  four  hundred  armed 
Camerons.  He  affected  great  reverence  for  the  royal  com-, 
mission,  but  he  dropped  three  or  four  words  which  were 
perfectly  understood  by  the  pages  and  armor-bearers  who 
watched  every  turn  of  his  eye.  ^^Is  none  of  my  lads  so 
clever  as  to  send  this  judge  packing?  I  have  seen  them 
get  up  a  quarrel  when  there  was  less  need  of  one.'*  In  a 
moment  a  brawl  began  in  the  crowd,  none  could  say  how 
or  where.  Hundreds  of  dirks  were  out:  cries  of  ^^Help,'* 
and  ^^Murder,*'  were  raised  on  all  sides:  many  wounds 
were  inflicted:  two  men  were  killed:  the  sitting  broke  up 
in  tumult;  and  the  terrified  Sheriff  was  forced  to  put  him- 
self under  the  protection  of  the  chief,  who,  with  a  plausi- 
ble show  of  respect  and  concern,  escorted  him  safe  home. 
It  is  amusing  to  think  that  the  man  who  performed  this 
feat  is  constantly  extolled  as  the  most  faithful  and  dutiful 
of  subjects  by  writers  who  blame  Somers  and  Burnet  as 
contemners  of  the  legitimate  authority  of  sovereigns. 
Lochiel  would  undoubtedly  have  laughed  the  doctrine  of 
non-resistance  to  scorn.  But  scarcely  any  chief  in  Inver- 
nesshire had  gained  more  than  he  by  the  downfall  of  the 
House  of  Argyle,  or  had  more  reason  than  he  to  dread  the 
restoration  of  that  House.  Scarcely  any  chief  in  Inver- 
nesshire, therefore,  was  more  alarmed  and  disgusted  by 
the  proceedings  of  the  Convention. 

But  of  all  those  Highlanders  who  looked  on  the  recent 
turn  of  fortune  with  painful  apprehension  the  fiercest  and 
the  most  powerful  were  the  Macdonalds.  More  than  one 
of  the  magnates  who  bore  that  widespread  name  laid  claim 
to  the  honor  of  being  the  rightful  successor  of  those  Lords 
of  the  Isles,  who,  as  late  as  the  fifteenth  century,  disputed 
the  pre-eminence  of  the  Kings  of  Scotland.  This  genea- 
logical controversy,  which  has  lasted  down  to  our  own 
time,  caused  much  bickering  among  the  competitors.  But 
they  all  agreed  in  regretting  the  past  splendor  of  their 

*  Act  Pari.,  July  5,  2661, 


HISTORY  OiF  ENGLAND. 


dynasty,  and  in  detesting  the  upstart  race  of  Campbell. 
The  old  feud  had  never  slumbered.  It  was  still  con- 
stantly repeated,  in  verse  and  prose,  that  the  finest  part  of 
the  domain  belonging  to  the  ancient  heads  of  the  Gaelic 
nation,  Islay,  where  they  had  lived  with  the  pomp  of 
royalty,  lona,  where  they  had  been  interred  with  the  pomp 
of  religion,  the  paps  of  Jura,  the  rich  peninsula  of  Kintyre, 
had  been  transferred  from  the  legitimate  possessors  to  the 
insatiable  Mac  Galium  More.  Since  the  downfall  of  the 
House  of  Argyle,  the  Macdonalds,  if  they  had  not  regained 
their  ancient  superiority,  might  at  least  boast  that  they 
had  now  no  superior.  Relieved  from  the  fear  of  their 
mighty  enemy  in  the  West,  they  had  turned  their  arms 
against  weaker  enemies  in  the  East,  against  the  clan  of 
Mackintosh  and  against  the  town  of  Inverness. 

The  clan  of  Mackintosh,  a  branch  of  an  ancient  and  re- 
nowned tribe  which  took  its  name  and  badge  from  the 
wild  cat  of  the  forests,  had  a  dispute  with  the  Macdonalds, 
which  originated,  if  tradition  may  be  believed,  in  those 
dark  times  when  the  Danish  pirates  wasted  the  coasts  of 
Scotland.  Inverness  was  a  Saxon  colony  among  the  Gelts, 
a  hive  of  traders  and  artisans,  in  the  midst  of  a  popula- 
tion of  loungers  and  plunderers,  a  solitary  outpost  of  civ- 
ilization in  a  region  of  barbarians.  Though  the  buildings 
covered  but  a  small  part  of  the  space  over  which  they  now 
extend;  though  the  arrival  of  a  brig  in  the  port  was  a  rare 
event;  though  the  Exchange  was  the  middle  of  a  miry 
street,  in  which  stood  a  market  cross  much  resembling  a 
broken  milestone;  though  the  sittings  of  the  municipal 
council  were  held  in  a  filthy  den  with  a  rough-cast  wall; 
though  the  best  houses  were  such  as  would  now  be  called 
hovels;  though  the  best  roofs  were  of  thatch;  though  the 
best  ceilings  were  of  bare  rafters;  though  the  best  windows 
were,  in  bad  weather,  closed  with  shutters  for  want  of 
glass;  though  the  humbler  dwellings  were  mere  heaps  of 
turf,  in  which  barrels  with  the  bottoms  knocked  out  served 
the  purpose  of  chimneys;  yet  to  the  mountaineer  of  the 
Grampians  this  city  was  as  Babylon  or  as  Tyre.  Nowhere 
else  had  he  seen  four  or  five  hundred  houses,  two  churches, 
twelve  maltkilns,  crowded  close  together.  Nowhere  elsa 
had  he  been  dazzled  by  the  splendor  of  rows  of  booths, 
where  knives,  horn  spoons,  tin  kettles,  and  g<audy  ribbons 
were  exposed  to  sale.  Nowhere  else  had  he  been  on  board 
of  one  of  those  huge  ships  which  brought  sugar  and  wini^ 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


over  the  sea  from  countries  far  beyond  the  limits  of  his 
geography.*  It  is  not  strange  that  the  haughty  and  war- 
like Macdonalds,  despising  peaceful  industry,  yet  envying 
the  fruits  of  that  industry,  should  have  fastened  a  succes- 
sion of  quarrels  on  the  people  of  Invernes^s.  In  the  reign 
of  Charles  the  Second,  it  had  been  apprehended  that  the 
town  would  be  stormed  and  plundered  by  those  rude 
neighbors.  The  terms  of  peace  which  they  offered  showed 
how  little  they  regarded  the  authority  of  the  prince  and  of 
the  law.  .Their  demand  was  that  a  heavy  tribute  should 
be  paid  to  them,  that  the  municipal  magistrates  should 
bind  themselves  by  an  oath  to  deliver  up  to  the  vengeance 
of  the  clan  every  burgher  who  should  shed  the  blood  of  a 
Macdonald,  and  that  every  burgher  who  should  anywhere 
meet  a  person  wearing  the  Macdonald  tartan  should  ground 
arms  in  token  of  submission.  Never  did  Lewis  the  Four- 
teenth, not  even  when  he  was  encamped  between  Utrecht 
and  Amsterdam,  treat  the  States  General  with  such  despotic 
insolence. f  By  the  intervention  of  the  Privy  Council  of 
Scotland,  a  compromise  was  effected:  but  the  old  animos- 
ity was  undiminished. 

Common  enmities  and  common  apprehensions  produced 
a  good  understanding  between  the  town  and  the  clan  of 
Mackintosh.  The  foe  most  hated  and  dreaded  by  both 
was  Colia  Macdonald  of  Keppoch,  an  excellent  specimen 
of  the  genuine  Highland  Jacobite.  Keppoch's  whole  life 
had  been  passed  in  insulting  and  resisting  the  authority  of 
the  Crown.  He  had  been  repeatedly  charged  on  his  alle- 
giance to  desist  from  his  lawless  practices,  but  had  treated 
every  admonition  with  contempt.  The  government,  how- 
ever, was  not  willing  to  resort  to  extremities  against  him; 
and  he  long  continued  to  rule  undisturbed  the  stormy 
peaks  of  Coryarrick,  and  the  gigantic  terraces  which  still 
mark  the  limits  of  what  was  once  the  Lake  of  Glenroy. 
He  was  famed  for  his  knowledge  of  all  the  ravines  and 
caverns  of  that  dreary  region;  and  such  was  the  skill  with 
which  he  could  track  a  herd  of  cattle  to  the  most  secret 
hiding-place  that  he  was  known  by  the  nickname  of  Coll 

♦  See  Burt's  Third  and  Fourth  Letters.  In  the  early  editions  is  an  engraving  of  the 
market  cross  of  Inverness,  and  of  that  part  of  the  street  where  the  merchants  congre- 
gated, 

I  ought  here  to  acknowledge  my  obligations  to  Mr,  Robert  Carruthers,  who  kindly 
furnished  me  with  much  curious  information  about  Inverness,  and  with  some  extracts 
from  the  municipal  records. 

I I  am  indebted  to  Mr  Carruthers  for  a  copy  of  the  demandf  of        M|ic4oii|^ldi|  ftH^ 

of  the  answer  of  the  Town  Council. 


2^6  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

of  the  Cows.*  At  length  his  outrageous  violations  of  all 
law  compelled  the  Privy  Council  to  take  decided  steps. 
He  was  proclaimed  a  rebel:  letters  of  fire  and  sword  were 
issued  against  him,  under  the  seal  of  James;  and  a  few 
weeks  before  the  Revolution,  a  body  of  royal  troops,  sup- 
ported by  the  whole  strength  of  the  Mackintoshes,  marched 
into  Keppoch's  territories.  Keppoch  gave  battle  to  the  in-  \ 
vaders,  and  was  victorious.  The  King's  farces  were  put  to 
flight;  the  King's  captain  was  slain;  and  this  by  a  hero 
whose  loyalty  to  the  King  many  writers  have  very  com- 
placently contrasted  with  the  factious  turbulence  of  the 
Whigs.f 

If  Keppoch  had  ever  stood  in  any  awe  of  the  govern- 
ment, he  was  completely  relieved  from  the  feeling  by  the 
general  anarchy  which  followed  the  Revolution.  He 
wasted  the  lands  of  the  Mackintoshes,  advanced  to  Inver- 
ness, and  threatened  the  town  with  destruction.  The  dan- 
ger was  extreme.  The  houses  were  surrounded  only  by  a 
wall  which  time  and  weather  had  so  loosened  that  it  shook 
in  every  storm.  Yet  the  inhabitants  showed  a  bold  front; 
and  their  courage  was  stimulated  by  their  preachers.  Sun- 
day the  twenty-eight  of  April  was  a  day  of  alarm  and  con^ 
fusion.  The  savages  went  round  and  round  the  small 
colony  of  Saxons  like  a  troop  of  famished  wolves  round  a 
sheep-fold.  Keppoch  threatened  and  blustered.  He 
would  come  in  with  all  his  men.  He  would  sack  the  place. 
The  burghers  meanwhile  mustered  in  arms  round  the 
market  cross  to  listen  to  the  oratory  of  their  min- 
isters. The  day  closed  without  an  assault:  the  Monday 
and  the  Tuesday  passed  away  in  intense  anxiety;  and 
then  an  unexpected  mediator  made  his  appearance. 

Dundee,  after  his  flight  from  Edinburgh,  had  retired  to 
his  country  seat  in  that  valley  through  which  the  Glamis 
descends  to  the  ancient  castle  of  Macbeth.  Here  he  re- 
mained quiet  during  some  time.  He  protested  that  he 
had  no  intention  of  opposing  the  new  government.  He 
declared  himself  ready  to  return  to  Edinburgh,  if  only  he 
could  be  assured  that  he  should  be  protected  against  law- 
less violence;  and  he  offered  to  give  his  word  of  honor,  or, 
if  that  were  not  sufficient  to  give  bail,  that  he  would  keep 
the  peace.  Some  of  his  old  soldiers  had  accompanied  him, 
and  formed  a  garrison  sufficient,  to  protect  his  houso 


•  Colt's  Deposition,  Appendix  to  the  Act  Pari.,  of  July  14,  16^0, 
t  §C9  the  Life  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


2S? 


against  the  Presbyterians  of  the  neighborhood.  Here  he 
might  possibly  have  remained  unharmed  and  harmless, 
had  not  an  event  for  which  he  was  not  answerable  made 
his  enemies  implacable,  and  made  him  desperate.** 

An  emissary  of  James  had  crossed  from  Ireland  to  Scot- 
land with  letters  addressed  to  Dundee  and  Balcarras.  Sus- 
picion was  excited.  The  messenger  was  arrested,  inter- 
rogated, and  searched;  and  the  letters  were  found.  Some 
of  them  proved  to  be  from  Melfort,  and  were  worthy  of 
him.  Every  line  indicated  those  qualities  which  had  made 
him  the  abhorrence  of  his  country,  and  the  favorite  of  his 
master.  He  announced  with  delight  the  near  approach  of 
the  day  of  vengeance  and  rapine,  of  the  day  when  the  es- 
tates of  the  seditious  would  be  divided  among  the  loyal, 
and  when  many  who  had  been  great  and  prosperous  would 
be  exiles  and  beggars.  The  King,  Melfort  said,  was  de- 
termined to  be  severe.  Experience  had  at  length  con- 
vinced His  Majesty  that  mercy  would  be  weakness.  Even 
the  Jacobites  were  disgusted  by  learning  that  a  restoration 
would  be  immediately  followed  by  a  confiscation  and  a 
proscription.  Some  of  them  pretended  to  suspect  a  for- 
gery. Others  did  not  hesitate  to  say  that  Melfort  was  a 
villain,  that  he  wished  to  ruin  Dundee  and  Balcarras,  and 
that,  for  that  end,  he  had  written  these  odious  despatches, 
and  had  employed  a  messenger  who  had  very  dexterously 
managed  to  be  caught.  It  is  however  quite  certain  that 
Melfort  never  disavowed  these  papers,  and  that,  after  they 
were  published,  he  continued  to  stand  as  high  as  ever  in 
the  favor  of  James.  It  can  therefore  hardly  be  doubted 
that  in  those  passages  which  shocked  even  the  zealous  sup- 
porters of  hereditary  right,  the  Secretary  merely  expressed 
with  fidelity  the  feelings  and  intentions  of  his  master.f 
Hamilton,  by  virtue  of  the  powers  which  the  Estates  had, 
before  their  adjournment,  confided  to  him,  ordered  Balcar- 
ras and  Dundee  to  be  arrested.  Balcarras  was  taken,  and 
was  confined,  first  in  his  own  house,  and  then  in  the  Tol- 
booth  of  Edinburgh.  But  to  seize  Dundee  was  not  so  easy 
an  enterprise.  As  soon  as  he  heard  that  warrants  were 
out  against  him,  he  crossed  the  Dee  with  his  followers, 

♦  Balcarras's  Memoirs;  History  of  the  late  Revolution  in  Scotland. 

t  There  is  among  the  Nairne  Papers  in  the  Bodleian  Library  a  curious  MS.  entitled 
"Journal  dece  qui  s'est  pass6  en  Irlande  depuis  I'arrivee  de  Sa  Majeste."  In  this  jour- 
nal there  are  notes  and  corrections  in  English  and  French;  the  English  in  the  hand- 
writing of  James,  the  French  in  the  handwriting  of  Melfort.  The  letters  intercepted 
by  Hamilton  are  mentioned,  and  mentioned  in  a  way  which  plainly  shows  that  thef 
were  ^eauine;  nor  is  there  the  least  sign  that  James  disapproved  oi  them. 


lilSfORY  OF  £NGLAf«TD. 


and  remained  a  short  time  in  the  wild  domains  of  the 
House  of  Gordon.  There  he  held  some  communication 
with  the  Macdonalds  and  Camerons  about  a  rising.  But 
he  seems  at  this  time  to  have  known  little  and  cared  little 
about  the  Highlanders.  For  their  national  character  he 
probably  felt  the  dislike  of  a  Saxon,  for  their  military 
character  the  contempt  of  a  professional  soldier.  He  soon 
returned  to  the  Lowlands,  and  stayed  there  till  he  learned 
that  a  considerable  body  of  troops  had  been  sent  to  ap- 
prehend him.*  He  then  betook  himself  to  the  hill  coun- 
try as  his  last  refuge,  pushed  northward  through  Strathdon 
and  Strathbogie,  crossed  the  Spey,  and  on  the  morning 
of  the  first  of  May,  arrived  with  a  small  band  of  horsemen 
at  the  camp  of  Keppoch  before  Inverness. 

The  new  situation  in  which  Dundee  was  now  placed,  the 
new  view  of  society  which  was  presented  to  him,  naturally 
suggested  new  projects  to  his  inventive  and  enterprising 
spirit.  The  hundreds  of  athletic  Celts  whom  he  saw  in 
their  national  order  of  battle  were  evidently  not  allies  to 
be  despised.  If  he  could  form  a  gr^at  coalition  of  clans, 
if  he  could  muster  under  one  banner  ten  or  twelve  thou- 
sand of  those  hardy  warriors,  if  he  could  induce  them  to 
submit  to  the  restraints  of  discipline,  what  a  career  might 
be  before  him! 

A  commission  from  King  James,  even  when  King  James 
was  securely  seated  on  the  throne,  had  never  been  re- 
garded with  much  respect  by  Cell  of  the  Cows.  That 
chief,  however,  hated  the  Campbells  with  all  the  hatred  of 
a  Macdonald,  and  promptly  gave  in  his  adhesion  to  the 
cause  of  the  House  of  Stuart.  Dundee  undertook  to  settle 
the  dispute  between  Keppoch  and  Inverness.  The  town 
agreed  to  pay  two  thousand  dollars,  a  sum  which,  small 
as  it  might  be  in  the  estimation  of  the  goldsmiths  of  Lom- 
bard Street,  probably  exceeded  any  treasure  that  had  ever 
been  carried  into  the  wilds  of  Coryarrick.  Half  the  sum 
was  raised,  not  without  difficulty,  by  the  inhabitants;  and 
Dundee  is  said  to  have  passed  his  words  for  the  re- 
mainder.f 

He  next  tried  to  reconcile  the  Macdonalds  with  the 

*  *'Nor  did  ever,"  says  Balcarras,  addressing  James,  "the  Viscount  of  Dundee  think 
of  going  to  the  Highlands  without  further  orders  from  you,  till  a  party  was  sent  to  ap- 
prehend him." 

+  See  the  narrative  sent  to  James  in  Ireland  and  received  by  him  July  7,  i68p.  It  is 
among  the  Nairne  Papers.  JSee  also  the  Memoirs  of  Dundee,  1714;  Memoirs  of  Sir  £wao 
Cameron;  Balcarras's  Memoirs;  Mackay's  Memoirs.  These  narratives  do  not  perfectly 
9i^€  witk  each  other,  or  with  the  information  which  I  obtained  from  Invtr&OM* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


Mackintoshes,  and  flattered  himself  that  the  two  warlike 
tribes,  lately  arrayed  against  each  other,  might  be  willing 
to  fight  side  by  side  under  his  command.  But  he  soon 
found  that  it  was  no  light  matter  to  take  up  a  Highland 
feud.  About  the  rights  of  the  contending  Kings  neither 
clan  knew  anything  nor  cared  anything.  The  conduct  of 
^bothistobe  ascribed  to  local  passions  and  interests. 
'What  Argyle  was  to  Keppoch,  Keppoch  was  to  the  Mack- 
intoshes. The  Mackintoshes  therefore  remained  neutral; 
and  their  example  was  followed  by  the  Macphersons, 
another  branch  of  the  race  of  the  wild  cat.  This  was  not 
Dundee's  only  disappointment.  The  Mackenzies,  the 
Erasers,  the  Grants,  the  Munros,  the  Mackays,  the  Mac- 
leods,  dwelt  at  a  great  distance  from  the  territory  of  Mac 
Galium  More.  They  had  no  dispute  with  him;  they  owed 
no  debt  to  him;  and  they  had  no  reason  to  dread  the  in- 
crease of  his  power.  They  therefore  did  not  sympathize 
with  his  alarmed  and  exasperated  neighbors,  and  could 
not  be  induced  to  join  the  confederacy  against  him.* 
Those  chiefs,  on  the  other  hand,  who  lived  nearer  to  In- 
verary,  and  to  whom  the  name  of  Campbell  had  long  been 
terrible  and  hateful,  greeted  Dundee  eagerly,  and  promised 
to  meet  him  at  the  head  of  their  followers  on  the  eight- 
eenth of  May.  During  the  fortnight  which  preceded  that 
day,  he  traversed  Badenoch  and  Athol,  and  exhorted  the 
inhabitants  of  those  districts  to  rise  in  arms.  He  dashed 
into  the  Lowlands  with  his  horsemen,  surprised  Perth,  and 
carried  off  some  Whig  gentlemen  prisoners  to  the  moun- 
tains. Meanwhile  the  fiery  crosses  had  been  wandering 
from  hamlet  to  hamlet  over  all  the  heaths  and  mountains 
thirty  miles  round  Ben  Nevis;  and  when  he  reached  the 
trysting  place  in  Lochaber  he  found  that  the  gathering 
had  begun.  The  head-quarters  were  fixed  close  to  Loc- 
hiel's  house,  a  large  pile  built  entirely  of  fir  wood,  and 
considered,  in  the  Highlands,  as  a  superb  palace.  Lochiel, 
surrounded  by  more  than  six  hundred  broadswords,  was 
there  to  receive  his  guests.  Macnaghten  of  Macnaghten  and 
Stewart  of  Appin  were  at  the  muster  with  their  little  clans. 
Macdonald  of  Keppoch  led  the  warriors  who  had,  a  few 
months  before,  under  his  command,  put  to  flight  the  mus- 
keteers of  King  James.  Macdonald  of  Clanronald  was  of 
tender  years:  but  he  was  brought  to  the  camp  by  his  uncle 


*  Memoirs  of  Dundee;  Tarbet  to  Melville,  xst  June  1689,  in  the  Leven  and  MelviU« 
Pap«n. 


26o 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


who  acted  as  regent  during  the  minority.  The  youth  was 
attended  by  a  picked  body  guard  composed  of  his  own 
cousins,  all  comely  in  appearance,  and  good  men  of  their 
hands.  Macdonald  of  Glengarry,  conspicuous  by  his  dark 
brow  and  his  lofty  stature,  came  from  that  great  valley 
where  a  chain  of  lakes,  then  unknown  to  fame,  and  scarce- 
ly set  down  in  maps,  is  now  the  daily  highway  of  steam 
vessels  passing  and  repassing  between  the  Atlantic  and 
the  German  Ocean.  None  of  the  rulers  of  the  mountains 
had  a  higher  sense  of  his  personal  dignity,  or  was  more 
frequently  engaged  in  disputes  with  other  chiefs.  He 
generally  affected  in  his  manners  and  in  his  housekeeping 
a  rudeness  beyond  that  of  his  rude  neighbors,  and  profes- 
sed to  regard  the  very  few  luxuries  which  had  then  found 
their  way  from  the  civilized  parts  of  the  world  into  the 
Highlands  as  signs  of  the  effeminacy  and  degeneracy  of 
the  Gaelic  race.  But  on  this  occasion  he  chose  to  imitate 
the  splendor  of  Saxon  warriors,  and  rode  on  horseback  be- 
fore his  four  hundred  plaided  clansmen  in  a  steel  cuirass  and 
a  coat  embroidered  with  gold  lace.  Another  Macdonald, 
destined  to  a  lamentable  and  horrible  end,  led  a  band  of 
hardy  freebooters  from  the  dreary  pass  of  Glencoe.  Some- 
what later  came  the  great  Hebridean  potentates.  Mac- 
donald of  Sleat,  the  most  opulent  and  powerful  of  all  the 
grandees  who  laid  claim  to  the  lofty  title  of  Lord  of  the 
Isles,  arrived  at  the  head  of  seven  hundred  fighting  men 
from  Sky.  A  fleet  of  long  boats  brought  five  hundred 
Macleans  from  Mull  under  the  command  of  their  chief, 
Sir  John  of  Duart.  A  far  more  formidable  array  had  in 
old  times  followed  his  forefathers  to  battle.  But  the  power, 
though  not  the  spirit,  of  the  clan  had  been  broken  by  the 
arts  and  arms  of  the  Campbells.  Another  band  of  Mac- 
leans arrived  under  a  valiant  leader,  who  took  his  title 
from  Lochbuy,  which  is,  being  interpreted,  the  Yellow 
Lake.* 

It  does  not  appear  that  a  single  chief  who  had  not  some 

♦  Narrative  in  the  Nairne  Papers;  Depositions  of  Colt,  Osburne,  Malcolm,  and  Stewart 
of  Ballachan  in  the  Appendix  to  the  Act  Pari,  of  July  14,  1690;  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan 
Cameron.  A  few  touches  I  have  taken  from  an  English  translation  of  some  passages  in 
a  lost  epic  poem  written  in  Latin,  and  called  the  Grameis.  The  writer  was  a  zealous 
Jacobite  named  Phillipps.  I  have  seldom  made  use  of  the  Memoirs  of  Dundee,  printed 
in  1714,  and  never  without  some  misgiving.  The  writer  was  certainly  not,  as  he  pre- 
tends, one  of  Dundee's  officers,  but  a  stupid  and  ignorant  Grub  Street  garreteer.  He  is 
utterly  wrong  both  as  to  the  place  and  as  to  the  time  of  the  most  important  of  all  the 
events  which  he  relates,  the  battle  of  KilHecrankie.  He  says  that  it  was  fought  on  the 
banks  of  the  Tummell,  and  on  the  13th  of  June.  It  was  fought  on  the  banks  of  the 
Qarry,  and  on  the  27th  of  July.  After  giving  such  a  specimen  of  inaccuracy  as  this,  it 
would  be  idle  to  point  out  minor  blunders. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


261 


special  cause  to  dread  and  detest  the  House  of  Argyle 
obeyed  Dundee's  summons.  There  is  indeed  strong  rea- 
son to  believe  that  the  chiefs  who  came  would  have  re- 
mained quietly  at  home  if  the  government  had  understood 
the  politics  of  the  Highlands.  Those  politics  were  thor- 
oughly understood  by  one  able  and  experienced  statesman, 
sprung  from  the  great  Highland  family  of  IMackenzie,  the 
Viscount  Tarbet.  He  at  this  conjuncture  pointed  out  to 
Melville  by  letter,  and  to  Mackay  in  conversation,  both  the 
cause  and  the  remedy  of  the  distempers  which  seemed 
likely  to  bring  on  Scotland  the  calamities  of  civil  war. 
There  was,  Tarbet  said,  no  general  disposition  to  insur- 
rection among  the  Gael.  Little  was  to  be  apprehended 
even  from  those  Popish  clans  which  were  under  no  appre- 
hension of  being  subjected  to  the  yoke  of  the  Campbells. 
It  was  notorious  that  the  ablest  and  most  active  of  the 
discontented  chiefs  troubled  themselves  not  at  all  about 
the  questions  which  were  in  dispute  between  the  Whigs 
and  the  Tories.  Lochiel  in  particular,  whose  eminent 
personal  qualities  made  him  the  most  important  man 
among  the  mountaineers,  cared  no  more  for  James  than 
for  William.  If  the  Camerons,  the  Macdonalds,  and  the 
Macleans  could  be  convinced  that,  under  the  new  govern- 
ment, their  estates  and  their  dignities  would  be  safe,  if 
Mac  Galium  More  would  make  some  concessions,  if  their 
Majesties  would  take  on  themselves  the  payment  of  some 
arrears  of  rent,  Dundee  might  call  the  clans  to  arms:  but 
he  would  call  to  little  purpose.  Five  thousand  pounds, 
Tarbet  thought,  would  be  sufficient  to  quiet  all  the  Geltic 
magnates;  and  in  truth,  though  that  sum  might  seem  ludi- 
crously small  to  the  politicians  of  Westminster,  though  it 
was  not  larger  than  the  annual  gains  of  the  Groom  of  the 
Stole,  or  of  the  Paymaster  of  the  Forces,  it  might  well 
be  thought  immense  by  a  barbarous  potentate  who,  while 
he  ruled  hundreds  of  square  miles,  and  could  bring  hun- 
dreds of  warriors  into  the  field,  had  perhaps  never  had  fifty 
guineas  at  once  in  his  coffers.* 

Though  Tarbet  was  considered  by  the  Scottish  ministers 
of  the  new  Sovereigns  as  a  very  doubtful  friend,  his  advice 
was  not  altogether  neglected.  It  was  resolved  that  over- 
tures such  as  he  recommended  should  be  made  to  the 

♦  From  a  letter  of  Archibald  Earl  of  Argyle  to  Lauderdale,  which  bears  date  the  2^th 
of  June  1664,  it  appears  that  a  hundred  thousand  marks  Scots,  little  more  than  five 
thousand  pounds  sterling,  would,  at  that  time,  have  very  nearly  satigfied  aU  the  claiips 
of  Mac  Galium  More  on  his  neighbors. 


262 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


malcontents.  Much  depended  on  the  choice  of  an  agent; 
and  unfortunately  the  choice  showed  how  little  the  preju- 
dices  of  the  wild  tribes  of  the  hills  were  understood  at 
Edinburgh.  A  Campbell  was  selected  for  the  office  of 
gaining  over  to  the  cause  of  King  William  men  whose 
only  quarrel  to  King  William  was  that  he  countenanced 
the  Campbells.  Offers  made  through  such  a  channel  were 
naturally  regarded  as  at  once  snares  and  insults.  After 
this  it  was  to  no  purpose  that  Tarbet  wrote  to  Lochiel  and 
Mackay  to  Glengarry.  Lochiel  returned  no  answer  to 
Tarbet;  and  Glengarry  returned  to  Mackay  a  coldly  civil 
answer,  in  which  the  general  was  advised  to  imitate  the 
example  of  Monk.* 

Mackay,  meanwhile,  wasted  some  weeks  in  marching,  in 
countermarching  and  in  indecisive  skirmishing.  He  after- 
ward honestly  admitted  that  the  Knowledge  which  he  had 
acquired,  during  thirty  years  of  military  service  on  the 
continent,  was,  in  the  new  situation  in  which  he  was 
placed,  useless  to  him.  It  was  difficult  in  such  a  country 
to  track  the  enemy.  It  was  impossible  to  drive  him  to 
bay.  Food  for  an  invading  army  was  not  to  be  found  in 
the  wilderness  of  heath  and  shingle;  nor  could  supplies 
for  many  days  be  transported  far  over  quaking  bogs  and 
up  precipitous  ascents.  The  general  found  that  he  had 
tired  his  men  and  their  horses  almost  to  death,  and  yet 
had  effected  nothing.  Highland  auxiliaries  might  have 
been  of  the  greatest  use  to  him:  but  he  had  few  such  aux- 
iliaries. The  chief  of  the  Grants,  indeed,  who  had  been 
persecuted  by  the  late  government,  and  had  been  accused 
of  conspiring  with  the  unfortunate  Earl  of  Argyle,  was 
zealous  on  the  side  of  the  Revolution.  Two  hundred 
Mackays,  animated  probably  by  family  feeling,  came,  from 
the  northern  extremity  of  our  island,  where  at  midsummer 
there  is  no  night,  to  fight  under  a  commander  of  their  own 
name:  but  in  general  the  clans  which  took  no  part  in  the 
insurrection  awaited  the  event  with  cold  indifference,  and 
pleased  themselves  with  the  hope  that  they  should  easily 
make  their  peace  with  the  conquerors,  and  be  permitted 
to  assist  in  plundering  the  conquered. 

An  experience  of  little  more  than  a  month  satisfied 
Mackay  that  there  was  only  one  way  in  which  the  High- 
lands could  be  subdued.    It  was  idle  to  run  after  the 


*  Mackay's  Memoirs;  Tarbet  to  Melville,  June  i,  1689,  in  the  Lcvcn  and  Melville  Pa* 
pers;  Dundee  tP  Melfort,  June  27,  in  the  Nairne  Papers. 


WILLIAM  AND  MAKY. 


263 


mountaineers  up  and  down  their  mountains.  A  chain  of 
fortresses  must  be  built  in  the  most  important  situations, 
and  must  be  well  garrisoned.  The  place  with  which  the 
general  proposed  to  begin  was  Inverlochy,  where  the  huge 
remains  of  an  ancient  castle  stood  and  still  stand.  This 
post  was  close  to  an  arm  of  the  sea,  and  was  in  the  heart 
of  the  country  occupied  by  the  discontented  clans.  A 
strong  force  stationed  there,  and  supported,  if  necessary, 
by  ships  of  war,  would  effectually  overawe  at  once  the 
Macdonalds,  the  Camerons  and  the  Macleans.* 

While  Mackay  was  representing  in  his  letters  to  the 
council  at  Edinburgh  the  necessity  of  adopting  this  plan, 
Dundee  was  contending  with  difficulties  which  all  his 
energy  and  dexterity  could  not  completely  overcome. 

The  Highlanders,  while  they  continued  to  be  a  nation 
living  under  a  peculiar  polity,  were  in  one  sense  better  and 
in  another  sense  worse  fitted  for  military  purposes  than 
any  other  nation  in  Europe.  The  individual  Celt  was 
morally  and  physically  well  qualified  for  war,  and  especi- 
ally for  war  in  so  wild  and  rugged  a  country  as  his  own. 
He  was  intrepid,  strong,  fleet,  patient  of  cold,  of  hunger, 
and  of  fatigue.  Up  steep  crags,  and  over  treacherous  mo- 
rasses, he  moved  as  easily  as  the  French  household  troops 
paced  along  the  great  road  from  Versailles  to  Marli.  He 
was  accustomed  to  the  use  of  weapons  and  to  the  sight  oi 
blood:  he  was  a  fencer:  he  was  a  marksman;  and  before 
he  had  ever  stood  in  the  ranks,  he  was  already  more  than 
half  a  soldier. 

As  the  individual  Celt  was  easily  turned  into  a  soldier, 
so  a  tribe  of  Celts  was  easily  turned  into  a  battalion  ot 
soldiers.  All  that  was  necessary  was  that  the  military  or* 
ganization  should  be  conformed  to  the  patriarchal  organi- 
zation. The  chief  must  be  colonel:  his  uncle  or  his 
brother  must  be  major:  the  tacksmen,  who  formed  what 
may  be  called  the  peerage  of  the  little  community,  must 
be  the  captains;  the  company  of  each  captain  must  con- 
sist of  those  peasants  who  lived  on  his  land,  and  whose 
names,  faces,  connections,  and  characters  were  perfectly 
known  to  him:  the  subaltern  officers  must  be  selected 
among  the  Duinhe  Wassels,  proud  of  the  eagle's  feather: 
the  henchman  was  an  excellent  orderly:  the  hereditary 
piper  and  his  sons  formed  the  band;  and  the  clan  became 
at  once  a  regiment.    In  such  a  regiment  was  found  from 

♦  See  Mackay's  Memoirs,  and  his  letter  to  Hamilton  of  the  14th  of  June  1689, 


264  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  first  moment  that  exact  order  and  prompt  obedience' 
in  which  the  strength  of  regular  armies  consists.  Every/ 
man,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  was  in  his  proper 
place,  and  knew  that  place  perfectly.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary to  impress  by  threats  or  by  punishment  on  the  newly 
enlisted  troops  the  duty  of  regarding  as  their  head  him 
whom  they  had  regarded  as  their  head  ever  since  they 
could  remember  anything.  Every  private  had,  from  in- 
fancy, respected  his  corporal  much  and  his  captain  more, 
and  had  almost  adored  his  colonel.  There  was  therefore 
no  danger  of  mutiny.  There  was  as  little  danger  of  deser- 
tion. Indeed  the  very  feelings  which  most  powerfully  im- 
pel other  soldiers  to  desert  kept  the  Highlander  to  his 
standard.  If  he  left  it  whither  was  he  to  go?  All  his 
kinsmen,  all  his  friends,  were  arrayed  round  it.  To 
separate  himself  from  it  was  to  separate  himself  forever 
from  his  family,  and  to  incur  all  the  misery  of  that  very 
home-sickness  which,  in  regular  armies,  drives  so  many  re- 
cruits to  abscond  at  the  risk  of  stripes  and  of  death.  When 
these  things  are  fairly  considered,  it  will  not  be  thought 
strange  that  the  Highland  clans  should  have  occasionally 
achieved  great  martial  exploits. 

But  those  very  institutions  which  made  a  tribe  of  High- 
landers, all  bearing  the  same  name,  and  all  subject  to  the 
same  ruler,  so  formidable  in  battle,  disqualified  the  na- 
tion for  war  on  a  large  scale.  Nothing  was  easier  than  to 
turn  clans  into  efficient  regiments:  but  nothing  was  more 
difficult  than  to  combine  these  regiments  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  form  an  efficient  army.  From  the  shepherds  and 
herdsmen  who  fought  in  the  ranks  up  to  the  chiefs,  all 
was  harmony  and  order.  Every  man  looked  up  to  his 
immediate  superior;  and  all  looked  up  to  the  common 
head.  But  with  the  chief  this  chain  of  subordination 
ended.  He  knew  only  how  to  govern,  and  had  never 
learned  to  obey.  Even  to  royal  proclamations,  even  to 
Acts  of  Parliament,  he  was  accustomed  to  yield  obedience 
only  when  they  were  in  perfect  accordance  with  his  own 
inclinations.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  he  would  pay 
to  any  delegated  authority  a  respect  which  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  refusing  to  the  supreme  authority.  He  thought 
himself  entitled  to  judge  of  the  propriety  of  every  order 
which  he  received.  Of  his  brother  chiefs,  some  were  his 
enemies,  and  some  his  rivals.  It  was  hardly  possible  to 
keep  him  from  affronting  them,  or  to  convince  him  that 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


56s 


they  were  hot  affronting  him.  All  his  followers  sym- 
pathized with  all  his  animosities,  considered  his  honor  as 
their  own,  and  were  ready  at  his  whistle  to  array  them- 
selves round  him  in  arms  against  the  commander-in-chief. 
There  was  therefore  very  little  chance  that  by  any  con- 
trivance any  five  clans  could  be  induced  to  cooperate 
heartily  with  one  another  during  a  long  campaign.  The 
best  chance,  however,  was  when  they  were  led  by  a  Saxon. 
It  is  remarkable  that  none  of  the  great  actions  performed 
by  the  Highlanders  during  our  civil  wars  was  performed 
under  the  command  of  a  Highlander.  Some  writers  have 
mentioned  it  as  a  proof  of  the  extraordinary  genius  of 
Montrose  and  Dundee  that  those  captains,  though  not 
themselves  of  Gaelic  race  or  speech,  should  have  been 
able  to  form  and  direct  confederacies  of  Gaelic  tribes. 
But  in  truth  it  was  precisely  because  Montrose  and  Dun- 
dee were  not  Highlanders  that  they  were  able  to  lead 
armies  composed  of  Highland  clans.  Had  Montrose  been 
chief  of  the  Camerons,  the  Macdonalds  would  never  have 
submitted  to  his  authority.  Had  Dundee  been  chief  of 
Cianronald,  he  would  never  have  been  obeyed  by  Glen- 
garry. Haughty  and  punctilious  men,  who  scarcely  ac- 
knowledged the  King  to  be  their  superior,  would  not  have 
endured  the  superiority  of  a  neighbor,  an  equal,  a  compet- 
itor. They  could  far  more  easily  bear  the  preeminence  of 
a  distinguished  stranger.  Yet  even  to  such  a  stranger 
they  would  allow  only  a  very  limited  and  a  very  precarious 
authority.  To  bring  a  chief  before  a  court-martial,  to 
shoot  him,  to  cashier  him,  to  degrade  him,  to  reprimand 
him  publicly  was  impossible.  Macdonald  of  Keppoch  or 
Maclean  of  Duart  would  have  struck  dead  any  officer  who 
had  demanded  his  sword,  and  told  him  to  consider  him- 
self as  under  arrest;  and  hundreds  of  claymores  would  in- 
stantly have  been  drawn  to  protect  the  murderer.  All 
that  was  left  to  the  commander  under  whom  these  poten- 
tates condescended  to  serve  was  to  argue  with  them,  to 
supplicate  them,  to  flatter  them,  to  bribe  them;  and  it  was 
only  during  a  short  time  that  any  human  skill  could  pre- 
serve harmony  by  these  means.  For  every  chief  thought 
himself  entitled  to  peculiar  observance;  and  it  was  there- 
fore impossible  to  pay  marked  court  to  any  one  without 
disobliging  the  rest.  The  general  found  himself  merely 
the  president  of  a  congress  of  petty  kings.  He  was  per- 
petually called  upon  to  hear  and  to  compose  disputes  about 


266  HISTORY  OF  ENtJLANB. 

pedigrees,  about  precedence,  about  the  division  of  spoil 
His  decision,  be  it  what  it  might,  must  offend  somebody. 
At  any  moment  he  might  hear  that  his  right  wing  had 
fired  on  his  center  in  pursuance  of  some  quarrel  two  hun- 
dred years  old,  or  that  a  whole  battalion  had  marched 
back  to  its  native  glen,  because  another  battalion  had  been 
put  in  the  post  of  honor.  A  Highland  bard  might  easily 
have  found  in  the  history  of  the  year  1689  subjects  very 
similar  to  those  with  which  the  war  of  Troy  furnished  the 
great  poets  of  antiquity.  One  day  Achilles  is  sullen, 
keeps  his  tent,  and  announces  his  intention  to  depart  with 
all  his  men.  The  next  day  Ajax  is  storming  about  the 
camp,  and  threatening  to  cut  the  throat  of  Ulysses. 

Hence  it  was  that,  though  the  Highlanders  achieved 
some  great  exploits  in  the  civil  wars  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  those  exploits  left  no  trace  which  could  be  dis- 
cerned after  the  lapse  of  a  few  weeks.  Victories  of  strange 
and  almost  portentous  splendor  produced  all  the  conse- 
quences of  defeat.  Veteran  soldiers  and  statesmen  were 
bewildered  by  these  sudden  turns  of  fortune.  It  was  in- 
credible that  undisciplined  men  should  have  performed 
such  feats  of  arms.  It  was  incredible  that  such  feats  of 
arms,  having  been  performed,  should  be  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  the  triumph  of  the  conquered  and  the  submission 
of  the  conquerors.  Montrose,  having  passed  rapidly  from 
victory  to  victory,  was,  in  the  full  career  of  success,  sud- 
denly abandoned  by  his  followers.  Local  jealousies  and 
local  interests  had  brought  his  army  together.  Local 
jealousies  and  local  interests  dissolved  it.  The  Gordons 
left  him  because  they  fancied  that  he  neglected  them  for 
the  Macdonalds.  The  Macdonalds  left  him  because  they 
wanted  to  plunder  the  Campbells.  The  force  which  had 
once  seemed  sufficient  to  decide  the  fate  of  a  kingdom 
melted  away  in  a  few  days;  and  the  victories  of  Tipper- 
muir  and  Kilsyth  were  followed  by  the  disaster  of  Philip- 
haugh.  Dundee  did  not  live  long  enough  to  experience  a 
similar  reverse  of  fortune:  but  there  is  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that,  had  his  life  been  prolonged  one  fortnight,  his 
history  would  have  been  the  history  of  Montrose  retold. 

Dundee  made  one  attempt,  soon  after  the  gathering  of 
the  clans  in  Lochaber,  to  induce  them  to  submit  to  the 
discipline  of  a  regular  army.  He  called  a  council  of  war 
to  consider  this  subject.  His  opinion  was  supported  by 
all  the  officers  who  had  ioined  him  from  the  low  countr,y, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


267 


Distinguished  among  them  were  James  Seton,  Earl  of 
Dunfermline,  and  James  Galloway,  Lord  Dunkeld.  The 
Celtic  chiefs  took  the  other  side.  Lochiel,  the  ablest 
among  them,  was  their  spokesman,  and  argued  the  point 
with  much  ingenuity  and  natural  eloquence.  *^Our  sys- 
tem,'*— such  was  the  substance  of  his  reasoning, — **may 
not  be  the  best:  but  we  were  bred  to  it  from  childhood: 
we  understand  it  perfectly:  it  is  suited  to  our  peculiar  in- 
stitutions, feelings,  and  manners.  Making  war  after  our 
own  fashion,  we  have  the  expertness  and  coolness  of  veter- 
ans. Making  war  in-  any  other  way,  we  shall  be  raw  and 
awkward  recruits.  To  turn  us  into  soldiers  like  those  of 
Cromwell  and  Turenne  would  be  the  business  of  years: 
and  we  have  not  even  weeks  to  spare.  We  have  time 
enough  to  unlearn  our  own  discipline,  but  not  time  enough 
to  learn  yours."  Dundee,  with  high  compliments  to  Loch- 
iel, declared  himself  convinced,  and  perhaps  was  convinced: 
for  the  reasonings  of  the  wise  old  chief  were  by  no  means 
without  weight.* 

Yet  some  Celtic  usages  of  war  were  such  as  Dundee 
could  not  tolerate.  Cruel  as  he  was,  his  cruelty  always 
had  a  method  and  a  purpose.  He  still  hoped  that  he 
might  be  able  to  win  some  chiefs  who  remained  neutral; 
and  he  carefully  avoided  every  act  which  could  goad  them 
into  open  hostility.  This  was  undoubtedly  a  policy  likely 
to  promote  the  interest  of  James:  but  the  interest  of  James 
was  nothing  to  the  wild  marauders  who  used  his  name  and 
rallied  round  his  banner  merely  for  the  purpose  of  making 
profitable  forays  and  wreaking  old  grudges.  Keppoch 
especially,  who  hated  the  Mackintoshes  much  more  than  he 
loved  the  Stuarts,  not  only  plundered  the  territory  of  his 
enemies,  but  burned  whatever  he  could  not  carry  away. 
Dundee  was  moved  to  great  wrath  by  the  sight  of  the 
blazing  dwellings.  "  I  would  rather,"  he  said,  "  carry  a 
musket  in  a  respectable  regiment  than  be  captain  of  such 
a  gang  of  thieves.'*  Punishment  was  of  course  out  of  the 
question.  Indeed  it  may  be  considered  as  a  remarkable 
proof  of  the  general's  influence  that  Coll  of  the  Cows 
deigned  to  apologize  for  conduct  for  which,  in  a  well  gov- 
erned army,  he  would  have  been  shot.f 

As  the  Grants  were  in  arms  for  King  William,  their 
property  was  considered  as  fair  prize.  Their  territory  was 
invaded  by  a  party  of  Camerons:  a  skirmish  took  place: 

♦  Mei^oiri  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron.  •  t  Ibid. 


s68 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


some  blood  was  shed;  and  many  cattle  were  carried  off  to 
Dundee's  camp,  where  provisions  were  greatly  needed. 
This  raid  produced  a  quarrel,  the  history  of  which  illus- 
trates in  the  most  striking  manner  the  character  of  a  High- 
land army.  Among  those  who  were  slain  in  resisting  the 
Camerons  was  a  Macdonald  of  the  Glengarry  branch,  who 
had  long  resided  among  the  Grants,  had  become  in  feel- 
ings and  opinions  a  Grant,  and  had  absented  himself  from 
the  muster  of  his  tribe.  Though  he  had  been  guilty  of  a 
hig^i  offence  against  the  Gaelic  code  of  honor  and  mor-* 
ality,  his  kinsmen  remembered  the  sacred  tie  which  he 
had  forgotten.  Good  or  bad,  he  was  bone  of  their  bone: 
he  was  flesh  of  their  flesh;  and  he  should  have  been  re- 
served for  their  justice.  The  name  which  he  bore,  the 
blood  of  the  Lords  of  the  Isles,  should  have  been  his  pro- 
tection. Glengarry  in  a  rage  went  to  Dundee  and  de- 
manded vengeance  on  Lochiel  and  the  whole  race  of  Cam- 
eron. Dundee  replied  that  the  unfortunate  gentleman 
who  had  fallen  was  a  traitor  to  the  clan  as  well  as  to  the 
King.  Was  it  ever  heard  of  in  war  that  the  person  of  an 
enemy,  a  combatant  inarms,  was  to  be  held  inviolable  on 
account  of  his  name  and  descent?  And,  even  if  wrong  had 
been  done,  how  was  it  to  be  redressed?  Half  the  army 
must  slaughter  the  other  half  before  a  finger  could  be  laid 
on  Lochiel.  Glengarry  went  away  raging  like  a  madman. 
Since  his  complaints  were  disregarded  by  those  who  ought 
to  right  him,  he  would  right  himself:  he  would  draw  out 
his  men,  and  fall  sword  in  hand  on  the  murderers  of  his 
cousin.  During  some  time  he  would  listen  to  no  expostu- 
lation. When  he  was  reminded  that  Lochiel's  followers 
were  in  number  nearly  double  of  the  Glengarry  men, 
No  matter,'*  he  cried,  "  one  Macdonald  is  worth  two 
Camerons."  Had  Lochiel  been  equally  irritable  and 
boastful,  it  is  probable  that  the  Highland  insurrection 
w^ould  have  given  little  more  trouble  to  the  government, 
and  that  the  rebels  would  have  perished  obscurely  in  the  j 
wilderness  by  one  another's  claymores.  But  nature  had 
bestowed  on  him  in  large  measure  the  qualities  of  a 
statesman,  though  fortune  had  hidden  those  qualities  in  an 
obscure  corner  of  the  world.  He  saw  that  this  was  not  a 
time  for  brawling;  his  own  character  for  courage  had  long 
been  established;  and  his  temper  was  under  strict  govern- 
ment. The  fury  of  Glengarry,  not  being  inflamed  by  any 
fresh  provocation,  r,apidly   abated.    Indeed  there  were 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


269 


some  wha  s^«;pected  that  he  had  never  been  quite  so  pug- 
nacious as  he  had  affected  to  be,  and  that  his  bluster  was 
meant  only  to  keep  up  his  own  dignity  in  the  eyes  of  his 
retainers.  However  this  might  be,  the  quarrel  was  com- 
posed; and  the  two  chiefs  met  with  the  outward  show  of 
civility  at  the  general's  table.* 

What  Dundee  saw  of  his  Celtic  allies  must  have  made 
him  desirous  to  have  in  his  army  some  troops  on  whose 
obedience  he  could  depend,  and  who  would  not,  at  a  signal 
from  their  colonel,  turn  their  arms  against  their  general 
and  their  king.  He  accordingly,  during  the  month  of 
May  and  June,  sent  to  Dublin  a  succession  of  letters  ear- 
nestly imploring  assistance.  If  six  thousand,  four  thou- 
sand, three  thousand,  regular  soldiers  were  now  sent  to 
Lochaber,  he  trusted  that  His  Majesty  would  soon  hold  a 
court  in  Holyrood.  That  such  a  force  might  be  spared 
hardly  admitted  of  a  doubt.  The  authority  of  James  was 
at  that  time  acknowledged  in  every  part  of  Ireland,  ex- 
cept on  the  shores  of  Lough  Erne  and  behind  the  ramparts 
of  Londonderry.  He  had  in  that  kingdom  an  army  of 
forty  thousand  men.  An  eighth  part  of  such  an  army 
would  scarcely  be  missed  there,  and  might,  united  with 
the  clans  which  were  in  insurrection,  effect  great  things  in 
Scotland. 

Dundee  received  such  answers  to  his  applications  as  en- 
couraged him  to  hope  that  a  large  and  well  appointed 
force  would  soon  be  sent  from  Ulster  to  join  him.  He  did 
not  wish  to  try  the  chance  of  battle  before  these  succors 
arrived,  f  Mackay,  on  the  other  hand,  was  weary  of  march- 
ing to  and  fro  in  a  desert.  His  men  were  exhausted  and 
out  of  heart.  He  thought  it  desirable  that  they  should 
withdraw  from  the  hill  country,  and  William  was  of  the 
same  opinion. 

In  June  therefore  the  civil  war  was,  as  if  by  concert  be- 
tween the  generals,  completely  suspended.  Dundee  re- 
mained in  Lochaber,  impatiently  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
troops  and  supplies  from  Ireland.  It  was  impossible  for 
him  to  keep  his  Highlanders  together  in  a  state  of  inactivity. 
A  vast  extent  of  moor  and  mountain  was  required  to  fur- 
nish food  for  so  many  mouths.  The  clans  therefore  went 
back  to  their  own  glens,  having  promised  to  reassemble  on 
the  first  summons. 


♦  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron. 
i  Dundee  to  Melfort,  June  27,  1689. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


Meanwhile  Mackay'  soldiers,  exhausted  by  severe  exer- 
tions and  privations,  were  taking  their  ease  in  quarters 
scattered  over  the  low  country  from  Aberdeen  to  Stirling. 
Mackay  himself  was  at  Edinburgh,  and  was  urging  the 
ministers  there  to  furnish  him  with  the  means  of  construct- 
ing a  chain  of  fortifications  among  the  Grampians.  The 
ministers  had,  it  should  seem,  miscalculated  their  military 
resources.  It  had  been  expected  that  the  Campbells  would 
take  the  field  in  such  force  as  would  balance  the  whole 
strength  of  the  clans  which  marched  under  Dundee.  It 
had  also  been  expected  that  the  Covenanters  of  the  West 
would  hasten  to  swell  the  ranks  of  the  army  of  King  Wil- 
liam. Both  expectations  were  disappointed.  Argyle  had 
found  his  principality  devastated,  and  his  tribe  disarmed 
and  disorganized.  A  considerable  time  must  elapse  before 
his  standard  would  be  surrounded  by  an  array  such  as  his 
forefathers  had  led  to  battle.  The  Covenanters  of  the 
West  were  in  general  unwilling  to  enlist.  They  were  as- 
suredly not  wanting  in  courage;  and  they  hated  Dundee 
with  deadly  hatred.  In  their  part  of  the  country  the  mem- 
ory of  his  cruelty  was  still  fresh.  Every  village  had  its  own 
tale  of  blood.  The  grey-headed  father  was  missed  in  one 
dwelling,  the  hopeful  stripling  in  another.  It  was  remem- 
bered but  too  well  how  the  dragoons  had  stalked  into  the 
peasant's  cottage,  cursing  and  damning  him,  themselves, 
and  each  other  at  every  second  word,  pushing  from  the 
ingle  nook  his  grandmother  of  eighty,  and  thrusting  their 
hands  into  the  bosom  of  his  daughter  of  sixteen;  how  the 
abjuration  had  been  tendered  to  him;  how  he  had  folded 
his  arms  and  said  "God's  will  be  done";  how  the  colonel 
had  called  for  a  file  with  loaded  muskets;  and  how  in  three 
minutes  the  good  man  of  the  house  had  been  wallowing  in 
a  pool  of  blood  at  his  own  door.  The  seat  of  the  martyr 
was  still  vacant  at  the  fireside;  and  every  child  could  point 
out  his  grave  still  green  amidst  the  heath.  When  the 
people  of  this  region  called  their  oppressor  a  servant  of 
the  devil,  they  were  not  speaking  figuratively.  They  be- 
lieved that  between  the  bad  man  and  the  bad  angel  there 
was  a  close  alliance  on  definite  terms;  that  Dundee  had 
bound  himself  to  do  the  work  of  hell  on  earth,  and  that, 
for  high  purposes,  hell  was  permitted  to  protect  its  slave 
till  the  measure  of  his  guilt  should  be  full.  But,  intensely 
as  these  men  abhorred  Dundee,  most  of  them  had  a  scru- 
ple about  drawing  the  sword  for  WilUam.    A  great  meet- 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


271 


Ing  was  held  in  the  parish  church  of  Douglas;  and  the 
question  was  propounded,  whether,  at  a  time  when  war 
was  in  the  land,  and  when  an  Irish  invasion  was  expected, 
it  were  not  a  duty  to  take  arms.  The 'debate  was  sharp 
and  tumultuous.  The  orators  on  one  side  adjured  their 
brethren  not  to  incur  the  curse  denounced  against  the  in- 
habitants of  Meroz,  who  came  not  to  the  help  of  the  Lord 
against  the  mighty.  The  orators  on  the  other  side  thun- 
dered against  sinful  associations.  There  were  malignants 
in  William's  army:  Mackay's  own  orthodoxy  was  problem- 
atical: to  take  military  service  with  such  comrades,  and 
under  such  a  general,  would  be  a  sinful  association.  At 
/ength  after  much  wrangling,  and  amidst  great  confusion, 
a  vote  was  taken;  and  the  majority  pronounced  that  to 
take  military  service  would  be  a  sinful  association.  There 
was  however  a  large  minority;  and,  from  among  the  mem- 
bers of  this  minority,  the  Earl  of  Angus  was  able  to  raise  a 
body  of  infantry,  which  is  still,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than 
a  hundred  and  sixty  years,  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Cameronian  Regiment.  The  first  lieutenant  colonel  was 
Cleland,  that  implacable  avenger  of  blood  who  had  driven 
Dundee  from  the  Convention.  There  was  no  small  diffi- 
culty in  filling  the  ranks;  for  many  West  country  Whigs, 
who  did  not  think  it  absolutely  sinful  to  enlist,  stood  out 
for  terms  subversive  of  all  military  discipline.  Some  would 
not  serve  under  any  colonel,  major,  captain,  sergeant,  or 
corporal,  who  was  not  ready  to  sign  the  Covenant.  Others 
insisted  that,  if  it  should  be  found  absolutely  necessary  to 
appoint  any  officer  who  had  taken  the  tests  imposed  in  the 
late  reign,  he  should  at  least  qualify  himself  for  command 
by  publicly  confessing  his  sin  at  the  head  of  the  regiment. 
Most  of  the  enthusiasts  who  had  proposed  these  conditions 
were  induced  by  dexterous  management  to  abate  much  of 
their  demands.  Yet  the  new  regiment  had  a  very  peculiar 
character.  The  soldiers  were  all  rigid  Puritans.  One  of 
their  first  acts  was  to  petition  the  Parliament  that  all 
drunkenness,  licentiousness,  and  profaneness  might  be 
severely  punished.  Their  own  conduct  must  have  been 
exemplary:  for  the  worst  crime  which  the  most  austere 
bigotry  could  impute  to  them  was  that  of  huzzaing  on  the 
King's  birthday.  It  was  originally  intended  that  with  the 
military  organization  of  the  corps  should  be  interwoven 
the  organization  of  a  Presbyterian  congregation.  Each 
company  was  to  furnish  an  eider;  and  the  elders  were, 


MlStORY  OF  ENGLAisrt). 


with  the  chaplain,  to  form  an  ecclesiastical  court  for  the 
suppression  of  immorality  and  heresy.  Elders,  hov/ever, 
were  not  appointed:  but  a  noted  hill  preacher,  Alexander 
Shields,  was  called  to  the  office  of  chaplain.  It  is  not  easy 
to  conceive  that  fanaticism  can  be  heated  to  a  higher  tem- 
perature than  that  which  is  indicated  by  the  writings  of 
Shields.  According  to  him,  it  should  seem  to  be  the  first 
duty  of  a  Christian  ruler,  to  persecute  to  the  death  every 
heterodox  subject,  and  the  first  duty  of  a  Christian  subject 
to  poniard  a  heterodox  ruler.  Yet  there  was  then  in  Scot- 
land an  enthusiasm  compared  with  which  the  enthusiasm 
^even  of  this  man  was  lukewarm.  The  extreme  Covenan- 
ters protested  against  his  defection  as  vehemently  as  he 
had  protested  against  the  Black  Indulgence  and  the  oath 
supremacy,  and  pronounced  every  man  who  entered 
Angus's  regiment  guilty  of  a  wicked  confederacy  with 
Mialignants.* 

Meanwhile  Edinburgh  Castle  had  fallen,  after  holding 
out  more  than  two  months.  Both  the  defence  and  the  at- 
tack had  been  languidly  conducted.  The  Duke  of  Gordon, 
unwilling  to  incur  the  mortal  hatred  of  those  at  whose 
mercy  his  lands  and  life  might  soon  be,  did  not  choose  to 
batter  the  city.  The  assailants,  on  the  other  hand,  carried 
on  their  operations  with  so  little  energy  and  so  little  vigi- 
lance that  a  constant  communication  was  kept  up  between 
the  Jacobites  within  the  citadel  and  the  Jacobites  without 
Strange  stories  were  told  of  the  polite  and  facetious  mes" 
sageii  which  passed  between  the  besieged  and  the  besieg' 
ers.  On  one  occasion  Gordon  sent  to  inform  the  magis- 
trates that  he  was  going  to  fire  a  salute  on  account  of  some 
news  which  he  had  received  from  Ireland,  but  that  the 
good  town  need  not  be  alarmed,  for  that  his  guns  would 
not  be  loaded  with  ball.  On  another  occasion,  his  drums 
beat  a  parley;  the  white  flag  was  hung  out:  a  conference 
took  place;  and  he  gravely  informed  the  enemy  that  all 
his  cards  had  been  thumbed  to  pieces,  and  begged  to  have 
a  few  more  packs.  His  friends  established  a  telegraph  by 
means  of  which  they  conversed  with  him  across  the  lines 

*  Sec  Faithful  Contendings  Displayed,  particularly  the  proceedingf  of  April  ag  and 
30  and  of  May  13,  and  14,  1689;  the  petition  to  Parliament  drawn  up  by  the  regiment,  on 
July  18,  1689:  the  protestation  of  Sir  Robert  Hamilton  of  November  6,  1689;  and  the  ad- 
monitory Epistle  to  the  Regiment,  dated  March  27,  1690.  The  Society  people,  as  they 
called  themselves,  seem  to  have  been  especially  shocked  by  the  way  in  which  the  King's 
birthday  had  been  kept.  "We  hope,"  they  wrote,  ''ye  are  against  observing  anniversary 
days  as  well  as  we,  and  that  ye  will  mourn  for  what  ye  have  done,"  As  to  the  opinions 
imd  temper  of  Alexander  Shields,  see  his  Hind  Let  Loose. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


<5f  sentinels.  From  a  window  in  the  top  story  of  one  of 
the  loftiest  of  those  gigantic  houses,  a  few  of  which 
still  darken  the  High  Street,  a  white  cloth  was  hung  out 
when  all  was  well,  and  a  black  cloth  when  things  went 
ill.  If  it  was  necessary  to  give  more  detailed  information, 
aboard  was  held  up  inscribed  with  capital  letters  so  large 
that  they  could,  by  the  help  of  a  telescope,  be  read  on  the 
ramparts  of  the  castle.  Agents  laden  with  letters  and 
fresh  provisions  managed,  in  various  disguises  and  by 
various  shifts,  to  cross  the  sheet  of  water  which  then  lay 
on  the  north  of  the  fortress,  and  to  clamber  up  the  precipi- 
tous ascent.  The  peal  of  a  musket  from  a  particular  half 
moon  was  the  signal  which  announced  to  the  friends  of 
the  House  of  Stuart  that  another  of  their  emissaries  had 
got  safe  up  the  rock.  But  at  length  the  supplies  were  ex- 
hausted; and  it  was  necessary  to  capitulate.  Favorable 
terms  were  readily  granted:  the  garrison  marched  out; 
and  the  keys  were  delivered  up  amidst  the  acclamations  of 
a  great  multitude  of  burghers.* 

But  the  government  had  far  more  acrimonious  and  more 
pertinacious  enemies  in  the  Parliament  House  than  in  the 
Castle.  When  the  Estates  reassembled  after  their  ad- 
journment, the  crown  and  scepter  of  Scotland  were  dis- 
played with  the  wonted  pomp  in  the  hall  as  types  of  the 
absent  sovereign.  Hamilton  rode  in  state  from  Holyrood 
up  the  High  Street  as  Lord  High  Commissioner;  and 
Crawford  took  the  chair  as  President.  Two  Acts,  one 
turning  the  Convention  into  a  Parliament,  the  other  re- 
cognizing William  and  Mary  as  King  and  Queen,  were 
rapidly  passed  and  touched  with  the  scepter;  and  then  the 
conflict  of  factions  began,  f 

It  speedily  appeared  that  the  opposition  which  Mont- 
gomery had  organized  was  irresistibly  strong.  Though 
made  up  of  many  conflicting  elements,  Republicans, 
Whigs,  Tories,  zealous  Presbyterians,  bigoted  Prelatists,  it 
acted  for  a  time  as  one  man  and  drew  to  itself  a  multitude 
of  those  mean  and  timid  politicians  who  naturally  gravi- 
tate towards  the  stronger  party.  The  friends  of  the  gov- 
ernment were  few  and  disunited.  Hamilton  brought  but 
half  a  heart  to  the  discharge  of  his  duties.  He  had  always 
been  unstable;  and  he  was  now  discontented.    He  held  in- 


♦Siege  of  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh,  printed  for  the  Bannatyne  Club;  Lend.  Gea.y  Jun^ 
xo-20,  1689. 
t  Act  Pail.  Scot.,  June  5,  June  17,  i68g, 


»74 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


deed  the  highest  place  to  which  a  subject  could  aspire. 

But  he  imagined  that  he  had  only  the  show  of  power  while 
others  enjoyed  the  substance,  and  was  not  sorry  to  se§ 
those  of  whom  he  was  jealous  thwarted  and  annoyed.  He 
did  not  absolutely  betray  the  prince  whom  he  represented: 
but  he  sometimes  tampered  with  the  chiefs  of  the  Club, 
and  sometimes  did  sly  ill  turns  to  those  who  were  joined 
with  him  in  the  service  of  the  Crown. 

His  instructions  directed  him  to  give  the  royal  assent  to 
laws  for  the  mitigating  or  removing  of  numerous  griev- 
ances, and  particularly  to  a  law  restricting  the  power  and 
reforming  the  constitution  of  the  Committee  of  Articles, 
and  to  a  law  establishing  the  Presbyterian  Church  Gov- 
ernment."*  But  it  mattered  not  what  his  instructions 
were.  The  chiefs  of  the  Club  were  bent  on  finding  a 
cause  of  quarrel.  The  propositions  of  the  Government 
touching  the  Lords  of  the  Articles  were  contemptuously 
rejected.  Hamilton  wrote  to  London  for  fresh  directions; 
and  soon  a  second  plan,  which  left  little  more  than  the 
name  of  the  once  despotic  Committee,  was  sent  back.  But 
the  second  plan,  though  such  as  would  have  contented 
judicious  and  temperate  reformers,  shared  the  fate  of  the 
first.  Meanwhile  the  chiefs  of  the  Club  laid  on  the  table  a 
law  which  interdicted  the  King  from  ever  employing  in 
any  public  office  any  person  who  had  ever  borne  any  part 
in  any  proceeding  inconsistent  with  the  Claim  of  Right,  or 
who  had  ever  obstructed  or  retarded  any  good  design  of 
the  Estates.  This  law,  uniting,  within  a  very  short  com- 
pass, almost  all  the  faults  which  a  law  can  have,  was  well 
known  to  be  aimed  at  the  Lord  President  of  the  Court  of 
Session,  and  at  his  son  the  Lord  Advocate.  Their  pros- 
perity and  power  made  them  objects  of  envy  to  every  dis- 
appointed candidate  for  office.  That  they  were  new  men, 
the  first  of  their  race  who  had  risen  to  distinction,  and  that 
nevertheless  they  had,  by  the  mere  force  of  ability,  be- 
come as  important  in  the  state  as  the  Duke  of  Hamilton 
or  the  Earl  of  Argyle,  was  a  thought  which  galled  the 
hearts  of  many  needy  and  haughty  patricians.  To  the 
Whigs  of  Scotland  the  Dalrymples  were  what  Halifax  and 
Caermarthen  were  to  the  Whigs  of  England.  Neither  the 
exile  of  Sir  James,  nor  the  zeal  with  which  Sir  John  had 
promoted  the  revolution,  was  received  as  an  atonement  for 
old  delinquency.    They  had  both  served  the  bloody  and 

♦  Th?  ipstructions  will  be  found  among  the  Spmcrs  Tracts. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


-275 


idolatrous  House.  They  had  both  oppressed  the  people  of 
God.  Their  late  repentance  might  perhaps  give  them  a 
fair  claim  to  pardon,  but  surely  gave  them  no  right  to 
honors  and  rewards. 

The  friends  of  the  government  in  vain  attempted  to  di- 
vert the  attention  of  the  Parliament  from  the  business  ot* 
persecuting  the  Dalrymple  family  to  the  important  and 
pressing  question  of  Church  Government.  They  said  that 
the  old  system  had  been  abolished;  that  no  other  system 
had  been  substituted;  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  what 
was  the  established  religion  of  the  kingdom;  and  that  the 
first  duty  of  the  legislature  was  to  put  an  end  to  an  anar- 
chy which  was  daily  producing  disasters  and  crimes.  The 
leaders  of  the  Club  were  not  to  be  so  drawn  away  from 
their  object.  It  was  moved  and  resolved  that  the  consid- 
eration of  ecclesiastical  affairs  should  be  postponed  till  secu- 
lar affairs  had  been  settled.  The  unjust  and  absurd  Act  of 
Incapacitation  was  carried  by  seventy-four  voices  to  twenty- 
four.  Another  vote  still  more  obviously  aimed  at  the 
House  of  Stair  speedily  followed.  The  Parliament  laid 
claim  to  a  veto  on  the  nomination  of  the  judges,  and  as- 
sumed the  power  of  stopping  the  signet,  in  other  words,  of 
suspending  the  whole  administration  of  justice,  till  this 
claim  should  be  allowed.  It  was  plain  from  what  passed 
in  debate,  that  though  the  chiefs  of  the  Club  had  begun 
with  the  Court  of  Session,  they  did  not  mean  to  end  there. 
The  arguments  used  by  Sir  Patrick  Hume  and  others  led 
directly  to  the  conclusion  that  the  King  ought  not  to  have 
the  appointment  of  any  great  public  functionary.  Sir  Pat- 
rick indeed  avowed,  both  in  speech  and  in  writing,  his 
opinion  that  the  whole  patronage  of  the  realm  ought  to  be 
transferred  from  the  Crown  to  the  Estates.  When  the 
place  of  Treasurer,  of  Chancellor,  of  Secretary,  was  vacant, 
the  Parliament  ought  to  submit  two  or  three  names  to  His 
Majesty;  and  one  of  those  names  His  Majesty  ought  to  be 
/    bound  to  select.* 

All  this  time  the  Estates  obstinately  refused  to  grant 
any  supply  till  their  Acts  should  have  been  touched  with 
the  scepter.  The  Lord  High  Commissioner  was  at  length 
so  much  provoked  by  their  perverseness  that,  after  long 
temporizing,  he  refused  to  touch  even  Acts  which  were  in 
themselves  unobjectionable,  and  to  which  his  instructions 


♦  As  to  Sir  Patrick's  views,  see  his  letter  of  the  7th  of  June,  and  Lockhart's  letter  q( 
Hie  xxth  of  July,  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers. 


2j6 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


empowered  him  to  consent.  Tliis  state  of  things  would 
have  ended  in  some  great  convulsion,  if  the  King  of  Scot- 
land had  not  been  also  King  of  a  much  greater  and  more 
opulent  kingdom.  Charles  the  First  had  never  found  any 
parliament  at  Westminster  more  unmanageable  than  Wil- 
liam, during  this  session,  found  the  parliament  at  Edin- 
burgh. But  it  was  not  in  the  power  of  the  parliament  at 
Edinburgh  to  put  on  William  such  a  pressure  as  the  par- 
liament at  Westminster  had  put  on  Charles.  A  refusal  of 
supplies  at  Westminster  was  a  serious  thing,  and  left  the 
Sovereign  no  choice  except  to  yield,  or  to  raise  money  by 
unconstitutional  means.  But  a  refusal  of  supplies  at 
Edinburgh  reduced  him  to  no  such  dilemma.  The  largest 
sum  that  he  could  hope  to  receive  from  Scotland  in  a  year 
was  less  than  what  he  received  from  England  every  fort- 
night. He  had  therefore  only  to  entrench  himself  within 
the  limits  of  his  undoubted  prerogative,  and  there  to  re- 
main on  the  defensive,  till  some  favorable  conjuncture 
should  arrive.* 

While  these  things  were  passing  in  the  Parliament  House, 
the  civil  war  in  the  Highlands,  having  been  during  a  few 
weeks  suspended,  broke  forth  again  more  violently  than 
before.  Since  the  splendor  of  the  House  of  Argyle  had 
been  eclipsed,  no  Gaelic  chief  could  vie  in  power  with  the 
Marquess  of  Athol.  The  district  from  which  he  took  his 
title,  and  of  which  he  might  almost  be  called  the  sover- 
eign, was  in  extent  larger  than  an  ordinary  county,  and 
was  more  fertile,  more  diligently  cultivated,  and  more 
thickly  peopled  than  the  greater  part  of  the  Highlands. 
The  men  who  followed  his  banner  were  supposed  to  be  not 
less  numerous  than  all  the  Macdonals  and  Macleans  united, 
and  were,  in  strength  and  courage,  inferior  to  no  tribe  in 
the  mountains.  But  the  clan  had  been  made  insignificant 
by  the  insignificance  of  the  chief.  The  Marquess  was  the 
falsest,  the  most  fickle,  the  most  pusillanimous,  of  man- 
kind.  Already,  in  the  short  space  of  six  months,  he  had 
been  several  times  a  Jacobite,  and  several  times  a  William- 
ite.  Both  Jacobites  and  Williamites  regarded  him  with 
contempt  and  distrust,  which  respect  for  his  immense 
power  prevented  them  from  fully  expressing.  After  re- 
peatedly vowing  fidelity  to  both  parties,  and  repeatedly 
betraying  both,  he  began  to  think  that  he  should  best  pro- 


♦  My  chief  materials  for  the  history  of  this  session  have  been  the  Acts,  the  Minutea^ 
»nd  the  L«ven  and  Melville  Papers. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


vide  for  his  safety  by  abdicating  the  functions  both  of  a 
peer  and  of  a  chieftain,  by  absenting  himself  both  from 
the  Parliament  House  at  Edinburgh  and  from  his  castle  in 
the  mountains,  and  by  quitting  the  country  to  which  he 
was  bound  by  every  tie  of  duty  and  honor  at  the  very 
crisis  of  her  fate.  While  all  Scotland  was  waiting  with  im- 
patience and  anxiety  to  see  in  which  army  his  numerous 
retainers  would  be  arrayed,  he  stole  away  to  England,  set- 
tled himself  at  Bath,  and  pretended  to  drink  the  waters.* 
His  principality,  left  without  a  head,  was  divided  against 
itself.  The  general  leaning  of  the  Athol  men  was  towards 
King  James.  For  they  had  been  employed  by  him,  only 
four  years  before,  as  the  ministers  of  his  vengeance  against 
the  House  of  Argyle.  They  had  garrisoned  Inverary:  they 
had  ravaged  Lorn:  they  had  demolished  houses,  cut  down 
fruit  trees,  burned  fishing  boats,  broken  millstones,  hanged 
Campbells,  and  were  therefore  not  likely  to  be  pleased  by 
the  prospects  of  Mac  Galium  More's  restoration.  One 
word  from  the  Marquess  would  have  sent  two  thousand 
claymores  to  the  Jacobite  side.  But  that  word  he  would 
not  speak;  and  the  consequence  was,  that  the  conduct  of 
his  followers  was  as  irresolute  and  inconsistent  as  his 
own. 

While  they  were  waiting  for  some  indication  of  his  wishes, 
they  were  called  to  arms  at  once  by  two  leaders,  either  of 
whom  might,  with  some  show  of  reason,  claim  to  be  con- 
sidered as  the  representative  of  the  absent  chief.  Lord 
Murray,  the  Marquess's  eldest  son,  who  was  married  to  a 
daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  declared  for  King  Wil- 
liam. Stewart  of  Ballenach,  the  Marquess's  confidential 
agent,  declared  for  King  James.  The  people  knew  not 
which  summons  to  obey.  He  whose  authority  would  have 
been  held  in  profound  reverence  had  plighted  faith  to  both 
sides,  and  had  then  run  away  for  fear  of  being  under  the 
necessity  of  joining  either;  nor  was  it  very  easy  to  say 
whether  the  place  which  he  had  left  vacant  belonged  to 
his  steward  or  to  his  heir  apparent. 

The  most  important  military  post  in  Athol  was  Blair 
Castle.  The  house  which  now  bears  that  name  is  not  dis- 
tinguished by  any  striking  peculiarity  from  other  country 
seats  of  the  aristocracy.     The  old  building  was  a  lofty 


*  *'Athol,"  says  Dundee,  contemptuously,  'Ms  gone  to  England,  who  did  not  know 
what  to  do,"— Dundee  to  Melfort,  June  27,  1689.  See  Athol's  letters  to  Melville  of  the 
»l8t  of  May  and  the  8th  of  June,  in  the  Leven  and  Melville  Papers. 


278 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


tower  of  rude  architecture  which  commanded  a  vale  watered 
by  the  Garry.  The  walls  would  have  offered  very  little 
resistance  to  a  battering  train,  but  were  quite  strong 
enough  to  keep  the  herdsmen  of  the  Grampians  in  awe. 
About  five  miles  south  of  this  stronghold,  the  valley  of  the 
Garry  contracts  itself  into  the  celebrated  glen  of  Killie- 
crankie.  At  present  a  highway  as  smooth  as  any  road  in 
Middlesex  ascends  gently  from  the  low  country  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  defile.  White  villas  peep  from  the  birch  forest; 
and,  on  a  fine  summer  day,  there  is  scarcely  a  turn  of  the 
pass  at  which  may  not  be  seen  some  angler  casting  his  fly 
on  the  foam  of  the  river,  some  artist  sketching  a  pinnacle 
of  rock,  or  some  party  of  pleasure  banqueting  on  the  turf  in 
the  fretwork  of  shade  and  sunshine.  But,  in  the  days  of 
William  the  Third,  Killiecrankie  was  mentioned  with 
horror  by  the  peaceful  and  industrious  inhabitants  of  the 
Perthshire  lowlands.  It  was  deemed  the  most  perilous  of 
all  those  dark  ravines  through  which  the  marauders  of  the 
hills  were  wont  to  sally  forth.  The  sound,  so  musical  to 
modern  ears,  of  the  river  brawling  round  the  mossy  rocks 
and  among  the  smooth  pebbles,  the  masses  of  grey  crag 
and  dark  verdure  worthy  of  the  pencil  of  Wilson,  the  fan- 
tastic peaks  bathed,  at  sunrise  and  sunset,  with  light  rich 
as  that  which  glows  on  the  canvas  of  Claude,  suggested  to 
our  ancestors  thoughts  of  murderous  ambuscades,  and  of 
bodies  stripped,  gashed,  and  abandoned  to  the  birds  of 
prey.  The  only  path  was  narrow  and  rugged:  a  horse 
could  with  difficulty  be  led  up:  two  men  could  hardly  walk 
abreast;  and,  in  some  places,  the  way  ran  so  close  by  the  preci- 
pice that  the  traveller  had  great  need  of  a  steady  eye  and 
foot.  Many  years  later,  the  first  Duke  of  Athol  construct- 
ed a  road  up  which  it  was  just  possible  to  drag  liis  coach. 
But  even  that  road  was  so  steep  and  so  straight  that  a  hand- 
ful of  resolute  men  might  have  defended  it  against  an 
army;*  nor  did  any  Saxon  consider  a  visit  to  Killiecrankie 
as  a  pleasure,  till  experience  had  taught  the -English  Gov- 
ernment that  the  weapons  by  which  the  Celtic  clans  could 
be  most  effectually  subdued  were  the  pickaxe  and  the 
spade. 

The  country  which  lay  j  ust  above  this  pass  was  now  the  the- 
ater of  a  war  such  as  the  Highlands  had  not  often  witnessed. 
Men  wearing  the  same  tartan,  and  attached  to  the  same 
lord  were  arrayed  against  each  other.     The  name  of  the 

*  Memoirs  of  £wan  Cameron. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


«79 


absent  chief  was  used,  with  some  show  of  reason,  on  both 
sides.  Ballenach,  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  vassals  who  con- 
sidered him  as  the  representative  of  the  Marquess,  occu- 
pied Blair  Castle.  Murray,  with  twelve  hundred  follow- 
ers, appeared  before  the  walls,  and  demanded  to  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  mansion  of  his  family,  the  mansion  which 
would  one  day  be  his  own.  The  garrison  refused  to  open 
the  gates.  Messengers  were  sent  off  by  the  besiegers  to 
Edinburgh,  and  by  the  besieged  to  Lochaber.*  In  both 
places  the  tidings  produced  great  agitation.  Mackay  and 
Dundee  agreed  in  thinking  that  the  crisis  required  prompt 
and  strenuous  exertion.  On  the  fate  of  Blair  Castle  prob- 
ably depended  the  fate  of  all  Athol.  On  the  fate  of  Athol 
might  depend  the  fate  of  Scotland.  Mackay  hastened 
northward,  and  ordered  his  troops  to  assemble  in  the  low 
country  of  Perthshire.  Some  of  them  were  quartered  at 
such  a  distance  that  they  did  not  arrive  in  time.  He  soon, 
however,  had  with  him  the  three  Scotch  regiments  which 
had  served  in  Holland,  and  which  bore  the  names  of  their 
colonels,  Mackay  himself,  Balfour,  and  Ramsay.  There 
was  also  a  gallant  regiment  of  infantry  from  England,  then 
called  Hastings's,  but  now  known  as  the  thirteenth  of  the 
line.  With  these  old  troops  were  joined  two  regiments 
newly  levied  in  the  Lowlands.  One  of  them  was  com- 
manded by  Lord  Kenmore;  the  other,  which  had  been 
raised  on  the  Border,  and  which  is  still  styled  the  King's 
Own  Borderers,  by  Lord  Leven.  Two  troops  of  horse, 
Lord  Annandale's  and  Lord  Belhaven's,  probably  made  up 
the  army  to  the  number  of  above  three  thousand  men. 
Belhaven  rode  at  the  head  of  his  troop:  but  Annandale, 
the  most  factious  of  all  M'ontgomery's  followers,  preferred 
the  Club  and  the  Parliament  House  to  the  field. f 

Dundee,  meanwhile,  had  summoned  all  the  clans  which 
acknowledged  his  commission  to  assemble  for  an  expedi- 
tion into  Athol.  His  exertions  were  strenuously  seconded 
by  Lochiel.  The  fiery  crosses  were  sent  again  in  all  haste 
through  Appin  and  Ardnamurchan,  up  Glenmore,  and 
along  Loch  Leven.  But  the  call  was  so  unexpected,  and 
the  time  allowed  was  so  short,  that  the  muster  was  not  a 
very  full  one.  The  whole  number  of  broadswords  seems  to 
have  been  under  three  thousand.  With  this  force,  such  as 
it  was,  Dundee  set  forth.  On  his  march  he  was  joined  by 
succors  which  had  just  arrived  from  Ulster.    They  consisted 

♦  Mackay'^  Mcmciirg.         '  t  M^ic»y*s  Memoiri* 


28o 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


of  little  more  than  three  hundred  Irish  foot,  ill  armed,  ill 
clothed,  and  ill  disciplined.  Their  commander  was  an 
officer  named  Cannon,  who  had  seen  service  in  the  Nether- 
lands, and  who  might  perhaps  have  acquitted  himself  well 
in  a  subordinate  post  and  in  a  regular  arm)^,  but  who  was 
altogether  unequal  to  the  part  now  assigned  to  him.*  He 
had  already  loitered  among  the  Hebrides  so  long  that 
some  ships  which  had  been  sent  with  him,  and  which  were 
laden  with  stores,  had  been  taken  by  English  cruisers.  He 
and  his  soldiers  had  with  difficulty  escaped  the  same  fate. 
Incompetent  as  he  was,  he  bore  a  commission  which  gave 
him  military  rank  in  Scotland  next  to  Dundee. 

The  disappointment  was  severe.  In  truth,  James  would 
have  done  better  to  withhold  all  assistance  from  the  High- 
landers than  to  mock  them  by  sending  them,  instead  of 
the  well  appointed  army  which  they  had  asked  and  expected, 
a  rabble  contemptible  in  numbers  and  appearance.  It  was 
now  evident  that  whatever  was  done  for  his  cause  in  Scot- 
land must  be  done  by  Scottish  hands.-^ 

While  Mackay  from  one  side,  and  Dundee  from  the 
other,  were  advancing  towards  Blair  Castle,  important 
events  had  taken  place  there.  Murray's  adherents  soon 
began  to  waver  in  their  fidelity  to  him.  They  had  an 
old  antipathy  to  Whigs;  for  they  considered  the  name  of 
Whig  as  synonymous  with  the  name  'of  Campbell.  They 
saw  arrayed  against  them  a  large  number  of  their  kins- 
men, commanded  by  a  gentleman  who  was  supposed  to 
possess  the  confidence  of  the  Marquess.  The  besieging 
army  therefore  melted  rapidly  away.  Many  returned 
home  on  the  plea  that,  as  their  neighborhood  was  about  to 
be  the  seat  of  war,  they  must  place  their  families  and  cat- 
tle in  security.  Others  more  ingenuously  declared  that  they 
would  not  fight  in  such  a  quarrel.  One  large  body  went 
to  a  brook,  filled  their  bonnets  with  water,  drank  a  health 
to  King  James,  and  then  dispersed. J  Their  zeal  for  King 
James,  however,  did  not  induce  them  to  join  the  standard 
of  his  general.  They  lurked  among  the  rocks  and  thickets 
which  overhang  the  Garry,  in  the  hope  that  there  would 
soon  be  a  battle,  and  that,  whatever  might  be  the  event, 
there  would  be  fugitives  and  corpses  to  plunder. 

Murray  was  in  a  strait.  His  force  had  dwindled  to  three 
or  four  hundred  men:  even  in  those  men  he  could  put  lit- 


♦  Van  Odyck  to  the  Greffier  of  the  States  General,  Aug.  2-12,  1689. 

t  M«moir»  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron,  t  Balcarras's  Memoirs. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


tie  trust;  and  the  Macdonalds  and  Camerons  were  ad- 
vancing fast.  He  therefore  raised  the  siege  of  Blair  Cas- 
tle, and  retired  with  a  few  followers  into  the  defile  of  Kil- 
(iecrankie.  There  he  was  soon  joined  by  a  detachment  of 
two  hundred  fusileers  whom  Mackay  had  sent  forward  to 
secure  the  pass.  The  main  body  of  the  Lowland  army 
speedily  followed.* 

Early  in  the  morning  of  Saturday  the  twenty-seventh  of 
July,  Dundee  arrived  at  Blair  Castle.  There  he  learned 
that  Mackay's  troops  were  already  in  the  ravine  of  Killie- 
crankie.  It  v/as  necessary  to  come  to  a  prompt  decision. 
A  council  of  war  was  held.  The  Saxon  officers  were  gen- 
erally against  hazarding  a  battle.  The  Celtic  chiefs  were 
of  a  different  opinion.  Glengarry  and  Lochiel  were  now 
both  of  a  mind.  Fight,  my  Lord,"  said  Lochiel  with  his 
usual  energy:  "fight  immediately,  fight,  if  you  have  only 
one  to  three.  Our  men  are  in  heart.  Their  only  fear  is 
that  the  enemy  should  escape.  Give  them  their  way;  and 
be  assured  that  they  will  either  perish  or  gain  a  complete 
victory.  But  if  you  restrain  them,  if  you  force  them  to 
remain  on  the  defensive,  I  answer  for  nothing.  If  we  do 
not  fight,  we  had  better  break  up  and  retire  to  our  moun- 
tains."! 

Dundee's  countenance  brightened.  "  You  hear,  gentle- 
men," he  said  to  his  Lowland  officers,  **you  hear  the  opin- 
ion of  one  who  understands  Highland  war  better  than  any 
of  us."  No  voice  was  raised  on  the  other  side.  It  was  de- 
termined to  fight;  and  the  confederated  clans  in  high 
spirits  set  forward  to  encounter  the  enemy. 
.  The  enemy  meanwhile  had  made  his  way  up  the  pass. 
The  ascent  had  been  long  and  toilsome:  for  even  the  foot 
had  to  climb  by  twos  and  threes;  and  the  baggage  horses, 
twelve  hundred  in  number,  could  mount  only  one  at  a 
time.  No  wheeled  carriage  had  ever  been  tugged  up  that 
arduous  path.  The  head  of  the  column  had  emerged  and 
was  on  the  table  land,  while  the  rear-guard  was  still  in  the 
plain  below.  At  length  the  passage  was  effected;  and  the 
troops  found  themselves  in  a  valley  of  no  great  extent. 
Their  right  was  flanked,  by  a  rising  ground,  their  left  by 
the  Garry.  Wearied  with  their  morning's  work,  they 
threw  themselves  on  the  grass  to  take  some  rest  and  re- 
freshment. 


*  Mackay's  Short  Relation,  dated  Aug.  17,  i6Sq. 
t  Memoirs  to  Sir  Ewan  Cameroa. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


Early  in  the  afternoon  they  were  roused  by  an  alarm 
that  the  Highlanders  were  approaching.  Regiment  after 
regiment  started  up  and  got  into  order.  In  a  little  while 
the  summit  of  an  ascent  which  was  about  a  musket  shot 
before  them  was  covered  with  bonnets  and  plaids.  Dun- 
dee rode  forward  for  the  purpose  of  surveying  the  force 
with  which  he  was  to  contend,  and  then  drew  up  his  own 
men  with  as  much  skill  as  their  peculiar  character  permit- 
ted him  to  exert.  It  was  desirable  to  keep  the  clans  dis- 
tinct. Each  tribe,  large  or  small,  formed  a  column  sepa- 
rated from  the  next  column  by  a  wide  interval.  One  of 
these  battalions  might  contain  seven  hundred  men,  while 
another  consisted  of  only  a  hundred  and  twenty.  Lochiel 
had  represented  that  it  was  impossible  to  mix  different 
tribes  without  destroying  all  that  constituted  the  peculiar 
strength  of  a  Highland  army.* 

On  the  right,  close  to  the  Gairy,  were  the  Macleans. 
Nearest  to  them  were  Cannon  and  his  Irish  foot.  Next 
stood  the  Macdonalds  of  Clanronald,  commanded  by  the 
guardian  of  their  young  prince.  On  their  left  were  other 
bands  of  Macdonalds.  At  the  head  of  one  large  battalion 
towered  the  stately  form  of  Glengarry,  who  bore  in  his 
hands  the  royal  standard  of  King  James  the  Seventh. f 
Still  further  to  the  left  were  the  cavalry,  a  small  squadron, 
consisting  of  some  Jacobite  gentlemen  who  had  fled  from 
the  Lowlands  to  the  mountains,  and  of  about  forty  of 
Dundee's  old  troopers.  The  horses  had  been  ill  fed  and 
ill  tended  among  the  Grampians,  and  looked  miserably 
lean  and  feeble.  Beyond  them  was  Lochiel  with  his 
Camerons.  On  the  extreme  left,  the  men  of  Sky  were 
marshalled  by  Macdonald  of  Sleat.J 

In  the  Highlands,  as  in  all  countries  where  war  had  not 
become  a  science,  men  thought  it  the  most  important  duty 
of  a  commander  to  set  an  example  of  personal  courage 
and  of  bodily  exertion.  Lochiel  was  especially  renowned 
for  his  physical  prowess.  His  clansmen  looked  big  with 
pride  when  they  related  how  he  had  himself  broken  hos- 
tile ranks  and  hewn  down  tall  warriors.  He  probably  owed 
quite  as  much  of  his  influence  to  those  achievements  as  to 
the  high  qualities  which,  if  fortune  had  placed  him  in  the 
English  Parliament  or  at  the  French  Court,  would  have 


♦  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron;  Mackay's  Memoirs, 
+  Douglas's  Baronage  of  Scotland. 
t  Mtraoirs  of  Sir  £wan  Cameron. 


WILLIAM  AND  MAkY. 


283 


made  him  one  of  the  foremost  men  of  the  age.  He  had 
the  sense  however  to  perceive  how  erroneous  was  the  no- 
tion which  his  countrymen  had  formed.  He  knew  that  to 
give  and  to  take  blows  was  not  the  business  of  a  general. 
He  knew  with  how  much  difficulty  Dundee  had  been  able 
to  keep  together,  during  a  few  days,  an  army  composed  of 
several  clans;  and  he  knew  that  what  Dundee  had  effected 
with  difficulty  Cannon  would  not  be  able  to  effect  at  all. 
The  life  on  which  so  much  depended  must  not  be  sacrificed 
to  a  barbarous  prejudice.  Lochiel  therefore  adjured  Dun- 
dee not  to  run  into  any  unnecessary  danger.  *'Your  Lord- 
ship's business,"  he  said,  ^4s  to  overlook  everything,  and 
to  issue  your  commands.  Our  business  is  to  execute  those 
commands  bravely  and  promptly."  Dundee  answered  with 
calm  magnanimity  that  there  was  much  weight  in  what 
his  friend  Sir  Ewan  had  urged,  but  that  no  general  could 
effect  anything  great  without  possessing  the  confidence  of 
his  men.  "I  must  establish  my  character  for  courage. 
Your  people  expect  to  see  their  leaders  in  the  thickest  of 
the  battle;  and  to-day  they  shall  see  me  there.  I  promise 
you,  on  my  honor,  that  in  future  fights,  I  will  take  more 
care  of  myself." 

Meanwhile  a  fire  of  musketry  was  kept  up  on  both  sides, 
out  more  skillfully  and  more  steadily  by  the  regular  sol- 
diers than  by  the  mountaineers.  The  space  between  the 
armies  was  one  cloud  of  smoke.  Not  a  few  Highlanders 
dropped;  and  the  clans  grew  impatient.  The  sun  however 
was  low  in  the  west  before  Dundee  gave  the  order  to  pre- 
pare for  action.  His  men  raised  a  great  shout.  The  enemy, 
probably  exhausted  by  the  toil  of  the  day,  returned  a  fee- 
ble and  wavering  cheer.  "We  shall  do  it  now,"  said  Lo- 
chiel: "that  is  not  the  cry  of  men  who  are  going  to  win." 
He  had  walked  through  all  his  ranks,  had  addressed  a  few 
words  to  every  Cameron,  and  had  taken  from  every 
Cameron  a  promise  to  conquer  or  die.* 

It  was  past  seven  o'clock.  Dundee  gave  the  word. 
The  Highlanders  dropped  their  plaids.  The  few  who 
were  so  luxurious  as  to  wear  rude  socks  of  untanned  hide 
spurned  them  away.  It  was  long  remembered  in  Lochaber 
that  Lochiel  took  off  what  probably  was  the  only  pair  of 
shoes  in  his  clan,  and  charged  barefoot  at  the  head  of  his 
men.  The  whole  line  advanced  firing.  The  enemy  re- 
turned  the  fire  and  did  much  execution.    When  only  a 

♦  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron, 


284 


HISTORY  OF  EiSTGLANB. 


small  space  was  left  between  the  armies,  the  Highlanders 
suddenly  flung  away  their  firelocks,  drew  their  broad- 
swords, and  rushed  forward  with  a  fearful  yell.  The  Low- 
landers  prepared  to  receive  the  shock:  but  this  was  then  a 
long  and  awkward  process;  and  the  soldiers  were  still 
fumbling  with  the  muzzles  of  their  guns  and  the  handles  of 
their  bayonets  when  the  whole  flood  of  Macleans,  Mac- 
donalds,  and  Camerons  came  down.  In  two  minutes  the 
battle  was  lost  and  won.  The  ranks  of  Balfour's  regi- 
ment broke.  He  was  cloven  down  while  struggling  in  the 
press.  Ramsay's  men  turned  their  backs  and  dropped 
their  arms.  Mackay's  own  foot  were  swept  away  by  the 
furious  onset  of  the  Camerons.  His  brother  and  nephew 
exerted  themselves  in  vain  to  rally  the  men.  The  former 
was  laid  dead  on  the  ground  by  a  stroke  from  a  claymore. 
The  latter,  with  eight  wounds  in  his  body,  made  his  way 
through  the  tumult  and  carnage  to  his  uncle's  side.  Even 
in  that  extremity  Mackay  retained  all  his  self-possession. 
He  had  still  one  hope.  A  charge  of  horse  might  recover 
the  day;  for  of  horse  the  bravest  Highlanders  were  sup- 
posed to  stand  in  awe.  But  he  called  on  the  horse  in  vain. 
Belhaven  indeed  behaved  like  a  gallant  gentleman,  but 
his  troopers,  appalled  by  the  rout  of  the  infantry,  galloped 
off  in  disorder:  Annandale's  men  followed:  all  was  over; 
and  the  mingled  torrent  of  redcoats  and  tartans  went 
raving  down  the  valley  to  the  gorge  of  Killiecrankie. 

Mackay,  accompanied  by  one  trusty  servant,  spurred 
bravely  through  the  thickest  of  the  claymores  and  targets, 
and  reached  a  point  from  which  he  had  a  view  of  the  field. 
His  whole  army  had  disappeared  with  the  exception  of 
some  Borderers  whom  Leven  had  kept  together,  and  of 
the  English  regiment,  which  had  poured  a  murderous  fire 
into  the  Celtic  ranks,  and  which  still  kept  unbroken  order. 
All  the  men  that  could  be  collected  were  only  a  few  hun- 
dreds. The  general  made  haste  to  lead  them  across  the 
Garry,  and,  having  put  that  river  between  them  and  the 
enemy,  paused  for  a  moment  to  meditate  on  his  situation. 

He  could  hardly  understand  how  the  conquerors  could 
be  so  unwise  as  to  allow  him  even  that  moment  for  delib- 
eration. They  might  with  ease  have  killed  or  taken  all 
who  were  with  him  before  the  night  closed  in.  But  the 
energy  of  the  Celtic  warriors  had  spent  itself  in  one 
furious  rush  and  one  short  struggle.  The  pass  was 
choked  by  the  twelve  hundied  beasts  of  burden  which 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


285 


carried  the  provisions  and  baggage  of  the  vanquished 
army.  Such  a  booty  was  irresistibly  tempting  to  men  who 
were  impelled  to  war  quite  as  much  by  the  desire  of 
rapine  as  by  the  desire  of  glory.  It  is  probable  that  few 
even  of  the  chiefs  were  disposed  to  leave  so  rich  a  prize  for 
the  sake  of  King  James.  Dundee  himself  might  at  that 
moment  have  been  unable  to  persuade  his  followers  to 
quit  the  heaps  of  spoil,  and  to  complete  the  great  work  of 
the  day;  and  Dundee  was  no  more. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  action  he  had  taken  his  place  in 
front  of  his  little  band  of  cavalry.  He  bade  them  follow 
him,  and  rode  forward.  But  it  seemed  to  be  decreed  that, 
on  that  day,  the  Lowland  Scotch  should  in  both  armies  ap- 
pear to  disadvantage.  The  horse  hesitated.  Dundee 
turned  round,  stood  up  in  his  stirrups,  and,  waving  his 
hat,  invited  them  to  come  on.  As  he  lifted  his  arm,  his 
cuirass  rose,  and  exposed  the  lower  part  of  his  left  side. 
A  musket  ball  struck  him:  his  horse  sprang  forward  and 
plunged  into  a  cloud  of  smoke  and  dust,  which  hid  from 
both  armies  the  fall  of  the  victorious  general.  A  person 
named  Johnstone  was  near  him,  and  caught  him  as  he 
sank  down  from  the  saddle.  How  goes  the  day?"  said 
Dundee.  *^Well  for  King  James;"  answered  Johnstone: 
*^butl  am  sorry  for  your  Lordship."  "If  it  is  well  for  him," 
answered  the  dying  man,  "it  matters  the  less  for  me."  Ha 
never  spoke  again:  but  when,  half  an  hour  later,  Lord 
Dunfermline  and  some  other  friends  came  to  the  spot,  they 
thought  that  they  could  still  discern  some  faint  remains  of 
life.  The  body,  wrapped  in  two  plaids,  was  carried  to  the 
Castle  of  Blair.* 

Mackay,  who  was  ignorant  of  Dundee's  fate,  and  well 
acquainted  with  Dundee's  skill  and  activity,  expected  to 
be  instantly  and  hotly  pursued,  and  had  very  little  expec- 
tation of  being  able  to  save  the  scanty  remains  of  the  van- 
quished army.  He  could  not  retreat  by  the  pass:  for  the 
Highlanders  were  already  there.  He  therefore  resolved 
to  push  across  the  mountains  towards  the  valley  of  the 
Tay.    He  soon  overtook  two  or  three  hundred  of  his  run- 


*  As  to  the  battle,  see  Mackay's  Memoirs,  Letters,  and  Short  Relation;  the  Memoirs 
of  Dundee;  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron;  Nisbet  and  Osburne's  depositions  in  the  Ap-- 
pendix  to  the  Act  Pari,  of  July  14,  1690.  See  also  the  account  of  the  battle  in  one  of 
Burt's  Letters.  Macpherson  printed  a  letter  from  Dundee  to  James  dated  the  day  after 
the  battle.  I  need  not  say  that  it  is  as  impudent  a  forgery,  as  Fingal.  The  author  o£ 
the  Memoirs  of  Dundee  says  that  Lord  Leven  was  scared  by  the  sight  of  the  Highland 
weapons  and  set  the  example  of  flight  This  is  a  spiteful  falsehood.  That  Leven  be* 
baved  remarkably  well  is  proved  by  Mackay's  Letters,  Memoirs,  aad  Short  Relatioa, 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


aways  who  had  taken  the  same  road.  Most  of  them  be- 
longed to  Ramsay's  regiment,  and  must  have  seen  service. 
But  they  were  unarmed:  they  were  utterly  bewildered  by 
the  recent  disaster;  and  the  general  could  find  among  them 
no  remains  either  of  martial  discipline  or  of  martial  spirit. 
His  situation  was  one  which  must  have  severely  tried  the 
firmest  nerves.  Night  had  set  in:  he  was  in  a  desert:  he 
had  no  guide:  a  victorious  enemy  was,  in  all  human  proba- 
bility, on  his  track;  and  he  had  to  provide  for  the  safety 
of  a  crowd  of  men  who  had  lost  both  head  and  heart.  He 
had  just  suffered  a  defeat  of  all  defeats  the  most  painful 
and  humiliating.  His  domestic  feelings  had  been  not  less 
severely  wounded  than  his  professional  feelings.  One  dear 
kinsman  had  just  been  struck  dead  before  his  eyes.  An- 
other, bleeding  from  many  wounds,  moved  feebly  at  his* 
side.  But  the  unfortunate  general's  courage  was  sus- 
tained by  a  firm  faith  in  God,  and  a  high  sense  of  duty  to 
the  state.  In  the  midst  of  misery  and  disgrace,  he  still 
held  his  head  nobly  erect,  and  found  fortitude,  not  only 
for  himself,  but  for  all  around  him.  His  first  care  was  to 
be  sure  of  his  road.  A  solitary  light  which  twinkled  through 
the  darkness  guided  him  to  a  small  hovel.  The  inmates 
spoke  no  tongue  but  the  Gaelic,  and  were  at  first  scared 
by  the  appearance  of  uniforms  and  arms.  But  Mackay's 
gentle  manner  removed  their  apprehension:  their  language 
had  been  familiar  to  him  in  childhood;  and  he  retained 
enough  of  it  to  communicate  with  them.  By  their  direc- 
tions, and  by  the  help  of  a  pocket  map,  in  which  the  routes 
through  that  wild  country  were  roughly  laid  down,  he  was 
able  to  find  his  way.  He  marched  all  night.  When  day 
broke  his  task  was  more  difficult  than  ever.  Light  in- 
creased the  terror  of  his  companions.  Hastings's  men  and 
Leven's  men  indeed  still  behaved  themselves  like  soldiers. 
But  the  fugitives  from  Ramsay's  were  a  mere  rabble. 
They  had  flung  away  their  muskets.  The  broadswords 
from  which  they  had  fled  were  ever  in  their  eyes.  Every 
fresh  object  caused  a  fresh  panic.  A  company  of  herds- 
men in  plaids  driving  cattle  was  magnified  by  imagination 
into  a  host  of  Celtic  warriors.  Some  of  the  runaways  left 
the  main  body  and  fled  to  the  hills,  where  their  cowardice 
met  with  a  proper  punishment.  They  were  killed  for  their 
coats  and  shoes;  and  their  naked  carcasses  were  left  for  a 
prey  to  the  eagles  of  Ben  Lawers.  The  desertion  would 
have  been  much  greater,  had  not  Mackay  and  his  officers, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


•87 


pistol  in  hand,  threatened  to  blow  out  the  brains  of  any 

man  whom  they  caught  attempting  to  steal  off. 

At  length  the  weary  fugitives  came  in  sight  of  Weem 
Castle.  The  proprietor  of  the  mansion  was  a  friend  to  the 
new  government,  and  extended  to  them  such  hospitality 
as  was  in  his  power.  His  stores  of  oatmeal  were  brought 
out:  kine  were  slaughtered:  and  a  rude  and  hasty  meal 
was  set  before  the  numerous  guests.  Thus  refreshed,  they 
again  set  forth,  and  marched  all  day  over  bog,  moor,  and 
mountain.  Thinly  inhabited  as  the  country  was,  they  could 
plainly  see  that  the  report  of  their  disaster  had  already 
spread  far,  and  that  the  population  was  everywhere  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement.  Late  at  night  they  reached 
Castle  Drummond,  which  was  held  for  King  William  by  a 
small  garrison;  and,  on  the  following  day,  th^y  proceeded 
with  less  difficulty  to  Stirling.* 

The  tidings  of  their  defeat  had  outrun  them.  All  Scot- 
land was  in  a  ferment.  The  disaster  had  indeed  been 
great  ;  but  it  was  exaggerated  by  the  wild  hopes  of  one 
party  and  by  the  wild  fears  of  the  other.  It  was  at  first 
believed  that  the  whole  army  of  King  William  had  per- 
ished ;  that  Mackay  himself  had  fallen  ;  that  Dundee,  at 
the  head  of  a  great  host  of  barbarians,  flushed  with  victory 
and  impatient*  for  spoil,  had  already  descended  from  the 
hills  ;  that  he  was  master  of  the  whole  country  beyond  the 
Forth  ;  that  Fife  was  up  to  join  him  ;  that  in  three  days  he 
would  be  at  Stirling ;  that  in  a  week  he  would  be  at  Holy- 
rood.  Messengers  were  sent  to  urge  a  regiment  which  lay 
in  Northumberland  to  hasten  across  the  border.  Others 
carried  to  London  earnest  entreaties  that  his  Majesty 
would  instantly  send  every  soldier  that  could  be  spared, 
nay,  that  he  would  come  himself  to  save  his  northern 
kingdom.  The  factions  of  the  Parliament  House,  awe- 
struck by  the  common  danger,  forgot  to  wrangle.  Cour- 
tiers and  malcontents  with  one  voice  implored  the  Lord 
High  Commissioner  to  close  the  session,  and  to  dismiss 
them  from  a  place  where  their  deliberations  might  soon  be 
interrupted  by  the  mountaineers.  It  was  seriously  con- 
sidered whether  it  might  not  be  expedient  to  abandon 
Edinburgh,  to  send  the  numerous  state  prisoners  who  were 
in  the  Castle  and  the  Tolbooth  on  board  of  a  man  of  war 
which  lay  off  Leith,  and  to  transfer  the  seat  of  government 
to  Glasgow. 


*  Mackay's  Memoirs;  Life  of  General  Hugii  Mackay      J.  Mackay  of  Ho^ki9i4f 


488 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  news  of  Dundee's  victory  was  everywhere  speedily 
followed  by  the  news  of  his  death;  and  it  is  a  strong  proof 
of  the  extent  and  vigor  of  his  faculties  that  his  death  seems 
everywhere  to  have  been  regarded  as  a  complete  set  off 
against  his  victory.  Hamilton,  before  he  adjourned  the 
Estates,  informed  them  that  he  had  good  tidings  for  them, 
that  Dundee  was  certainly  dead,  and  that  therefore  the  v 
rebels  had  on  the  whole  sustained  a  defeat.  In  several 
letters  written  at  that  conjuncture  by  able  and  experienced 
politicians  a  similar  opinion  is  expressed.  The  messenger 
who  rode  with  the  news  of  the  battle  to  the  English  capital 
was  fast  followed  by  another  who  carried  a  despatch  to  the 
King,  and,  not  finding  his  Majesty  at  St.  James's  galloped 
to  Hampton  Court.  Nobody  in  the  capital  ventured  to 
break  the  seal:  but  fortunately,  after  the  letter  had  been 
closed,  some  friendly  hand  had  hastily  written  on  the  out- 
side a  few  words  of  comfort:  ^^Dundee  is  killed.  Mackay 
has  got  to  Stirling:"  and  these  words  seem  to  have  quieted 
the  minds  of  the  Londoners.* 

From  the  pass  of  Killiecrankie  the  Highlanders  had  re- 
tired, proud  of  their  victory,  and  laden  with  spoil,  to  the 
Castle  of  Blair.  They  boasted  that  the  field  of  battle  was 
covered  with  heaps  of  Saxon  soldiers,  and  that  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  corpses  bore  ample  testimony  to  the 
power  of  a  good  Gaelic  broadsword  in  a  good  Gaelic  right 
hand.  Heads  were  found  cloven  down  to  the  throat,  and 
skulls  struck  clean  off  just  above  the  ears.  The  conquerors 
however  had  bought  their  victory  dear.  While  they  were 
advancing  they  had  been  much  galled  by  the  musketry  of 
the  enemy:  and,  even  after  the  decisive  charge,  Hastings's 
Englishmen  and  some  of  Leven's  Borderers  had  continued 
to  keep  up  a  steady  fire.  A  hundred  and  twenty  Camerons 
had  been  slain:  the  loss  of  the  Macdonalds  had  been  still 
greater;  and  several  gentlemen  of  birth  and  note  had 
fallen.! 

Dundee  was  buried  in  the  church  of  Blair  Athol:  but  no 
monument  was  erected  over  his  grave;  and  the  church  it- 
self has  long  disappeared.  A  rude  stone  on  the  field  of 
battle  marks,  if  local  tradition  can  be  trusted,  the  place 
where  he  fell,      During  the  last  three  months  of  his  life  he 

♦  Letters  of  the  Extraordinary  Ambassadors  to  the  Greffier  of  the  States  General, 
August  2-12,  1689;  and  a  letter  of  the  same  date  from  Van  Odyck,  who  was  at  Hampton 
Court. 

+  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameron;  Memoirs  of  Dundee. 

t  The  tradition  is  certainly  much  more  than  &  hundred  fWi4  twenty  years  ol^.  T^f 
9%9nc  WM  pointed  out  to  Bm^^. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


had  approved  himself  a  great  warrior  and  politician;  and 
his  name  is  therefore  mentioned  with  respect  by  that  large 
class  of  persons  who  think  that  there  is  no  excess  of  wick- 
edness for  which  courage  and  ability  do  not  atone. 

It  is  curious  that  the  two  most  remarkable  battles  that 
perhaps  were  ever  gained  by  irregular  over  regular  troops 
should  have  been  fought  in  the  same  week:  the  battle  of 
Killiecrankie  and  the  battle  of  Newton  Butler.  In  both 
battles  the  success  of  the  irregular  troops  was  singularly 
rapid  and  complete.  In  both  battles  the  panic  of  the  regu- 
lar troops,  in  spite  of  the  conspicuous  examples  of  cour- 
age set  by  their  generals,  was  singularly  disgraceful.  It 
ought  also  to  be  noted,  that  of  these  extrordinary  victories, 
one  was  gained  by  Celts  over  Saxons,  and  the  other  by  Sax- 
ons over  Celts.  The  victory  of  Killiecrankie,  indeed,  though 
neither  more  splendid  nor  more  important  than  the  victory 
of  Newton  Butler,  is  far  more  widely  renowned;  and  the 
reason  is  evident.  The  Anglo-Saxon  and  the  Celt  have  been 
reconciled  in  Scotland,  and  have  never  been  reconciled  in 
Ireland.  In  Scotland  all  the  great  actions  of  both  races 
are  thrown  into  a  common  stock,  and  are  considered  as 
making  up  the  glory  which  belongs  to  the  whole  country. 
So  completely  has  the  old  antipathy  been  extinguished  that 
nothing  is  more  usual  than  to  hear  a  Lowlander  talk  with 
complacency  and  even  with  pride  of  the  most  humiliating 
defeat  that  his  ancestors  ever  underwent.  It  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  name  any  eminent  man  in  whom  national  feeling 
and  clannish  feeling  were  stronger  than  in  Sir  Walter  Scott. 
Yet  when  Sir  Walter  Scott  mentioned  Killiecrankie  he 
seemed  utterly  to  forget  that  he  was  a  Saxon,  that  he  was 
of  the  same  blood  and  of  the  same  speech  with  Ramsay's 
foot  and  Annandale's  horse.  His  heart  swelled  with  tri- 
umph when  he  related  how  his  own  kindred  had  fled  like 
hares  before  a  smaller  number  of  warriors  of  a  different 
breed  and  of  a  different  tongue. 

In  Ireland  the  feud  remains  unhealed.  The  name  of 
Newton  Butler,  insultingly  repeated  by  a  minority,  is  hate- 
ful to  the  great  majority  of  the  population.  If  a  monu- 
ment were  set  up  on  the  field  of  battle,  it  would  probably 
be  defaced;  if  a  festival  were  held  in  Cork  or  Waterford  on 
the  anniversary  of  the  battle,  it  would  probably  be  inter- 
rupted by  violence.  The  most  illustrious  Irish  poet  of  our 
time  would  have  thought  it  treason  to  his  country  to  sing  the 
praises  of  the  conquerors.    One  of  the  most  learned  an4 


1^6 


tiiSTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


diligent  Irish  archaeologists  of  our  time  has  labored,  not  in- 
deed very  successfully,  to  prove  that  the  event  of  the  day 
was  decided  by  a  mere  accident  from  which  the  Englishry 
could  derive  no  glory.  We  cannot  wonder  that  the  victory 
of  the  Highlanders  should  be  more  celebrated  than  the 
victory  of  the  Enniskilleners,  when  we  consider  that  the 
victory  of  the  Highlanders  is  matter  of  boast  to  all  Scot- 
land, and  that  the  victory  of  the  Enniskilleners  is  matter 
of  shame  to  three-fovirths  of  Ireland. 

As  far  as  the  great  interests  of  the  state  were  concerned, 
it  mattered  not  at  all  whether  the  battle  of  Killiecrankie 
were  lost  or  wori.  It  is  very  improbable  that  even  Dundee, 
if  he  had  survived  the  most  glorious  day  of  his  life^  could 
have  surmounted  those  difficulties  which  sprang  from  the 
peculiar  nature  of  his  army,  and  which  would  have  in- 
creased tenfold  as  soon  as  the  war  was  transferred  to  the 
Lowlands.  It  is  certain  that  his  successor  was  altogether 
unequal  to  the  task.  During  a  day  or  two,  indeed,  the  new 
general  might  flatter  himself  that  all  would  go  well.  His 
army  was  rapidly  swollen  to  near  double  the  number  of 
claymores  that  Dundee  had  commanded.  The  Stewarts  of 
Appin,  who,  though  fuil  ^f  zeal,  had  not  been  able  to  come 
up  in  time  for  the  battle,  were  among  the  first  who  arrived. 
Several  clans  who  had  hitherto  waited  to  see  which  side 
was  the  stronger,  were  now  <ager  to  descend  on  the  Low- 
lands under  the  standard  of  King  James  the  Seventh. 
The  Grants  indeed  continued  to  bear  true  allegiance  to 
William  and  Mary;  and  the  Mackintoshes  were  kept  neu- 
tral by  unconquerable  aversion  to  Keppoch.  But  Macpher- 
sons,  Farquharsons,  and  Erasers  came  in  crowds  to  the 
camp  at  Blair.  The  hesitation  of  the  Athol  men  was  at  an 
end.  Many  of  them  had  lurked,  during  the  fight,  among 
the  crags  and  birch  trees  of  Killiecrankie,  and,  as  soon  as 
the  event  of  the  day  was  decided,  had  emerged  from  those 
hiding  places  to  strip  and  butcher  the  fugitives  who  tried 
to  escape  by  the  pass.  The  Robertsons,  a  Gaelic  race, 
though  bearing  a  Saxon  name,  gave  in  at  this  conjuncture 
their  adhesion  to  the  cause  of  the  exiled  King.  Their 
chief,  Alexander,  who  took  his  appellation  from  his  lord- 
ship of  Struan,  was  a  very  young  man  and  a  student  at  the 
University  of  St.  Andrew's.  He  had  there  acquired  a 
smattering  of  letters,  and  had  been  initiated  much  more 
deeply  into  Tory  politics.  He  now  joined  the  Highland 
jirmy,  and  continued,  through  a  long  life,  to  be  constant 


WILIJAM  AND  MARY.  29I 

to  the  Jacobite  cause.  His  part,  however,  in  pubhc  affairs 
was  so  insignificant  that  his  name  would  not  now  be  re- 
membered, if  he  had  not  left  a  volume  of  poems,  always 
very  stupid  and  often  very  profligate.  Had  this  book  been 
manufactured  in  Grub  Street,  it  would  scarcely  have  been 
honored  with  a  quarter  of  a  line  in  the  Dunciad.  But  it 
attracted  some  notice  on  account  of  the  situation  of  the 
writer.  For,  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago,  an  eclogue 
or  a  lampoon  written  by  a  Highland  chief  was  a  literary 
portent.* 

But^  though  the  numerical  strength  of  Cannon's  forces 
was  increasing,  their  efficiency  was  diminishing.  Every 
new  tribe  which  joined  the  camp  brought  with  it  some  new 
cause  of  dissension.  In  the  hour  of  peril,  the  most  arro- 
gant and  mutinous  spirits  will  often  submit  to  the  guid-  ^ 
ance  of  superior  genius.  Yet,  even  in  the  hour  of  peril, 
and  even  to  the  genius  of  Dundee,  the  Celtic  chiefs  had 
yielded  but  a  precarious  and  imperfect  obedience.  To  re- 
strain them,  when  intoxicated  with  success  and  confident 
of  their  strength,  would  probably  have  been  too  hard  a 
task  even  for  him,  as  it  had  been,  in  the  preceding  genera- 
tion, too  hard  a  task  for  Montrose.  The  new  general  did 
nothing  but  hesitate  and  blunder.  One  of  his  first  acts 
was  to  send  a  large  body  of  men,  chiefly  Robertsons,  down 
into  the  low  country  for  the  purpose  of  collecting  provis- 
ions. He  seems  to  have  supposed  that  this  detachment 
would  without  difficulty  occupy  Perth.  But  Mackay  had 
already  restored  order  among  the  remains  of  his  army:  he 
had  assembled  round  him  some  troops  which  had  not 
shared  in  the  disgrace  of  the  late  defeat;  and  he  was 
again  ready  for  action.  Cruel  as  his  sufferings  had  been, 
he  had  wisely  and  magnanimously  resolved  not  to  punish 
what  was  past.  To  distinguish  between  degrees  of  guilt 
was  not  easy.  To  decimate  the  guilty  would  have  been 
to  commit  a  frightful  massacre.  His  habitual  piety  too 
led  him  to  consider  the  unexampled  panic  which  had  seized 
his  soldiers  as  a  proof  rather  of  the  divine  displeasure  than 
of  their  cowardice.  He  acknowledged  with  heroic  humil- 
ity that  the  singular  firmness  which  he  had  himself  dis- 
played in  the  midst  of  the  confusion  and  havoc  was  not  his 
own,  and  that  he  might  well,  but  for  the  support  of  a 

♦  See  the  History  prefixed  to  the  poems  of  Alexander  Robertson.  In  this  history  he 
is  represented  as  having  joined  before  the  battle  of  Killiecrankie.  But  it  appears  from 
the  evidence  which  is  in  the  Appendix  to  the  Act  Pari.  Scot.,  of  July  14,  1690,  that  h« 
came  in  on  the  following  day. 


C92  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 

higher  power,  have  behaved  as  pusillanimously  as  any  oi 
the  wretched  runaways  who  had  thrown  away  their  wea- 
pons and  implored  quarter  in  vain  from  the  barbarous 
marauders  of  Athol.  His  dependence  on  heaven  did  not, 
however,  prevent  him  from  applying  himself  vigorously 
to  the  work  of  providing,  as  far  as  human  prudence  could 
provide,  against  the  recurrence  of  such  a  calamity  as  that 
which  he  had  just  experienced.  The  immediate  cause  of 
the  late  defeat  was  the  difficulty  of  fixing  bayonets.  The 
firelock  of  the  Highlander  was  quite  distinct  from  the 
weapon  which  he  used  in  close  fight.  He  discharged  his 
shot,  threw  away  his  gun,  and  fell  on  with  his  sword. 
This  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  It  took  the  regular 
^  musketeer  two  or  three  minutes  to  alter  his  missile  wea- 
pon into  a  weapon  with  which  he  could  encounter  an  enemy 
hand  to  hand;  and  during  these  two  or  three  minutes  the 
event  of  the  battle  of  Killiecrankie  had  been  decided.  Mac- 
kay  therefore  ordered  all  his  bayonets  to  be  so  formed  that 
they  might  be  screwed  upon  the  barrel,  without  stopping 
it  up,  and  that  his  men  might  be  able  to  receive  a  charge 
at  the  very  instant  after  firing.* 

As  soon  as  he  learned  that  a  detachment  of  the  Gaelic  army  ' 
was  advancing  towards  Perth,  he  hastened  to  meet  them 
at  the  head  of  a  body  of  dragoons  who  had  not  been  in  the 
battle,  and  whose  spirit  was  therefore  unbroken.  On 
Wednesday  the  thirty-first  of  July,  only  four  days  after 
his  defeat,  he  fell  in  with  the  Robertsons,  attacked  them, 
routed  them,  killed  a  hundred  and  twenty  of  them,  and 
took  thirty  prisoners,  with  the  loss  of  only  a  single  soldier.f 
This  skirmish  produced  an  effect  quite  out  of  proportion 
to  the  number  of  the  combatants  or  of  the  slain.  The  re- 
putation of  the  Celtic  arms  went  down  almost  as  fast  as 
it  had  risen.  During  two  or  three  days  it  had  been  every- 
where imagined  that  those  arms  were  invincible.  There 
was  now  a  reaction.  It  was  perceived  that  what  had  hap- 
pened at  Killiecrankie  was  an  exception  to  ordinary  rules, 
and  that  the  Highlanders  were  not,  except  in  very  peculiar 
circumstances,  a  match  for  good  regular  troops. 

Meanwhile  the  disorders  of  Cannon's  camp  went  on  in- 
creasing. He  called  a  council  of  war  to  consider  what 
course  it  would  be  advisable  to  take.  But,  as  soon  as  the 
council  had  met,  a  preliminary  question  was  raised.  Who 
were  entitled  to  be  consulted?    The  army  was  almost  ex- 


*  Mackay's  Memoirs. 


t  Ibid.;  Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  Cameroa* 


WILLIAM   AND  MARY. 


clusively  a  Highland  army.  The  recent  victory  had  been 
won  exclusively  by  Highland  warriors.  Great  chiefs,  who 
had  brought  six  or  seven  hundred  fighting  men  into  the 
field,  did  not  think  it  fair  that  they  should  be  outvoted  by 
gentlemen  from  Ireland  and  from  the  low  country,  who 
bore  indeed  King  James's  commission,  and  were  called 
colonels  and  captains,  but  who  were  colonels  without  regi- 
ments and  captains  without  companies.  Lochiel  spoke 
strongly  in  behalf  of  the  class  to  which  he  belonged:  but 
Cannon  decided  that  the  votes  of  the  Saxon  officers  should 
be  reckoned.* 

It  was  next  considered  what  was  to  be  the  plan  of  the 
campaign.  Lochiel  was  for  advancing,  for  marching  to- 
wards Mackay,  wherever  Mackay  might  be,  and  for  giving 
battle  again.  It  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  success  had 
so  turned  the  head  of  the  wise  chief  of  the  Camerons  as 
to  make  him  insensible  of  the  danger  of  the  course  which 
he  recommended.  But  he  probably  conceived  that  nothing 
but  a  choice  between  dangers  was  left  to  him.  His  notion 
was  that  vigorous  action  was  necessary  to  the  very  being 
of  a  Highland  army,  and  that  the  coalition  of  clans  would 
last  only  while  they  were  impatient*ly  pushing  forward 
from  battle-field  to  battle-field.  He  was  again  overruled. 
All  his  hopes  of  success  were  now  at  an  end.  His  pride 
was  severely  wounded.  He  had  submitted  to  the  ascend- 
ency of  a  great  captain:  but  he  cared  as  little  as  any  Whig 
for  a  royal  commission.  He  had  been  willing  to  be  the 
right  hand  of  Dundee:  but  he  would  not  be  ordered  about 
by  Cannon.  He  quitted  the  camp,  and  retired  to  Locha- 
ber.  He  indeed  directed  his  clans  to  remain.  But  the 
clan,  deprived  of  the  leader  whom  it  adored,  and  aware 
that  he  had  withdrawn  himself  in  ill  humor,  was  no  longer 
the  same  terrible  column  which  had  a  few  days  before  kept 
so  well  the  vow  to  perish  or  to  conquer.  Macdonald  of 
Sleat,  whose  forces  exceeded  in  number  those  of  any  other 
of  the  confederate  chiefs,  followed  LochieFs  example  and 
returned  to  Sky.f 

Mackay's  arrangements  were  by  this  time  complete;  and 
he  had  little  doubt  that,  if  the  rebels  came  down  to  attack 
him,  the  regular  army  would  retrieve  the  honor  which  had 
been  lost  at  Killiecrankie.  His  chief  difficulties  arose  from 
the  unwise  interference  of  the  ministers  of  the  Crown  at 
Edinburgh  with  matters  which  ought  to  have  been  left 


*  -Memoirs  of  Sir  Ewan  CameroB, 


t  Memoirs  of  Sir  £waa  Cameroo. 


294 


HISTORY  or  ENGLAND, 


to  his  direction.  The  truth  seems  to  be  that  they,  aftei^ 
the  ordinary  fashion  of  men  who,  having  no  military  ex- 
perience, sit  in  judgment  on  military  operations,  consid- 
ered success  as  the  only  test  of  the  ability  of  a  com- 
mander. Whoever  wins  a  battle  is,  in  the  estimation  of 
such  persons,  a  great  general:  whoever  is  beaten  is  a  bad 
general;  and  no  general  had  ever  been  more  completely 
beaten  than  Mackay.  William,  on  the  other  hand,  contin- 
ued to  place  entire  confidence  in  his  unfortunate  lieutenant. 
To  the  disparaging  remarks  of  critics  who  had  never  seen 
a  skirmish,  Portland  replied,  by  his  master's  orders,  that 
Mackay  was  perfectly  trustworthy,  that  he  was  brave,  that 
he  understood  war  better  than  any  other  officer  in  Scotland, 
and  that  it  was  much  to  be  regretted  that  any  prejudice 
should  exist  against  so  good  a  man  and  so  good  a 
soldier.* 

The  unjust  contempt  with  which  the  Scotch  Privy  Coun- 
cillors regarded  Mackay  led  them  into  a  great  error  which 
might  well  have  caused  a  great  disaster.  The  Cameronian 
regiment  was  sent  to  garrison  Dunkeld.  Of  this  arrange- 
ment Mackay  altogether  disapproved.  He  knew  that  at 
Dunkeld  these  troops  would  be  near  the  enemy;  that  they 
would  be  far  from  all  assistance;  that  they  would  be  in  an 
open  town;  that  they  would  be  surrounded  by  a  hostile 
population;  that  they  were  very  imperfectly  disciplined, 
though  doubtless  brave  and  zealous;  that  they  were  re- 
garded by  the  whole  Jacobite  party  throughout  Scotland 
with  peculiar  malevolence;  and  that  in  all  probability 
some  great  effort  would  be  made  to  disgrace  and  destroy 
them.f 

The  general's  opinion  was  disregarded;  and  the  Camero- 
nians  occupied  the  post  assigned  to  them.  It  soon  appeared 
that  his  forebodings  were  just.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
country  round  Dunkeld  furnished  Cannon  with  intelligence 
and  urged  him  to  make  a  bold  push.  The  peasantry  of 
Athol,  impatient  for  spoil,  came  in  great  numbers  to  swell 
his  army.  The  regiment  hourly  expected  to  be  attacked, 
and  became  discontented  and  turbulent.  The  men,  intre- 
pid, indeed,  both  from  constitution  and  from  enthusiasm,, 
but  not  yet  broken  to  habits  of  military  submission,  ex- 
postulated with  Cleland,  who  commanded  them.  They 


•  Sec  Portland's  Letters  to  Melville  of  April  as.  and  Mar  15,  1690,  in  the  Leven  and 
I  Macka^^s  Mtmoirs;  Memoirs  of  Sir  £wan  Cameron. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


29S 


nad,  they  imagined,  been  recklessly,  if  not  perfidiously, 
sent  to  certain  destruction.  They  were  protected  by  no 
ramparts:  they  had  a  very  scanty  stock  of  ammunition: 
they  were  hemmed  in  by  enemies.  An  officer  might  mount 
and  gallop  beyond  reach  of  danger  in  an  hour:  but  the 
private  soldier  must  stay  and  be  butchered.  Neither  I," 
said  Cleland,  **nor  any  of  my  officers  will,  in  any  extrem- 
ity, abandon  you.  Bring  out  my  horse,  all  our  horses; 
they  shall  be  shot  dead."  These  words  produced  a  com- 
plete change  of  feeling.  The  men  answered  that  the  horses 
should  not  be  shot,  that  they  wanted  no  pledge  from  their 
brave  colonel  except  his  word,  and  that  they  would  run 
the  last  hazard  with  him.  They  kept  their  promise  well. 
The  Puritan  blood  was  now  thoroughly  up;  and  what  that 
blood  was  when  it  was  up  had  been  proved  on  many  fields 
of  battle. 

That  night  the  regiment  passed  under  arms.  On  the 
morning  of  the  following  day,  the  twenty- first  of  August, 
all  the  hills  round  Dunkeld  were  alive  with  bonnets  and 
plaids.  Cannon's  army  was  much  larger  than  that  which 
Dundee  had  commanded,  and  was  accompanied  by  more 
than  a  thousand  horses  laden  with  baggage.  Both  the 
horses  and  baggage  were  probably  part  of  the  booty  of 
Killiecrankie.  The  whole  number  of  Highlanders  was 
estimated  by"  those  that  saw  them  at  from  four  to  five 
thousand  men.  They  came  furiously  on.  The  outposts 
of  the  Cameronians  were  speedily  driven  in.  The  assail- 
ants came  pouring  on  every  side  into  the  streets.  The 
church,  however,  held  out  obstinately.  But  the  greater 
part  of  the  regiment  made  its  stand  behind  a  wall  which 
surrounded  a  house  belonging  to  the  Marquess  of  Athol. 
This  wall,  which  had  two  or  three  days  before  been  hastily 
repaired  with  timber  and  loose  stones,  the  soldiers  defended 
desperately  with  musket,  pike,  and  halbert.  Their  bullets 
were  soon  spent;  but  some  of  the  men  were  employed  in 
cutting  lead  from  the  roof  of  the  Marquess's  house  and 
shaping  it  into  slugs.  Meanwhile  all  the  neighboring 
houses  were  crowded  from  top  to  bottom  with  Highland- 
ers, who  kept  up  a  galling  fire  from  the  windows.  Cle- 
land, while  encouraging  his  men,  was  shot  dead.  The 
command  devolved  on  Major  Henderson.  In  another  min- 
ute Henderson  fell  pierced  with  three  mortal  wounds. 
His  place  was  supplied  by  Captain  Munro,  and  the  con- 
test went  on  with  undiminished  fury.    A  party  of  the  Cam* 


296 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


eronians  sallied  farth,  set  fire  to  the  houses  from  which  th^ 
fatal  shots  had  come,  and  turned  the  keys  in  the  door,  fn 
one  single  dwelling  sixteen  of  the  enemy  were  burnt  alive. 
Those  who  were  in  the  fight  described  it  as  a  terrible  initia- 
tion for  recruits.  Half  the  town  was  blazing;  and  with  the 
incessant  roar  of  the  guns  were  mingled  the  piercing  shrieks 
of  wretches  perishing  in  the  flames.  The  struggle  lasted  four 
hours.  By  that  time  the  Cameronians  were  reduced  nearly  to 
their  last  flask  of  powder:  but  their  spirit  never  flagged. 
**The  enemy  will  soon  carry  the  wall.  Be  it  so.  We 
will  retreat  into  the  house:  we  will  defend  it  to  the 
last;  and,  if  they  force  their  way  into  it,  we  will  burn  it 
over  their  heads  and  our  own."  But,  while  they  were  re- 
volving these  desperate  projects,  they  observed  that  the 
fury  of  the  assault  slackened.  Soon  the  Highlanders  be- 
gan to  fall  back:  disorder  visibly  spread  among  them;  and 
whole  bands  began  to  march  off  to  the  hills.  It  was  in 
vain  that  their  general  ordered  them  to  return  to  the  at- 
tact.  Perseverance  was  not  one  of  their  military  virtues. 
The  Cameronians  meanwhile,  with  shouts  of  defiance,  in- 
vited Amalek  and  Moab  to  come  back  and  to  try  another 
chance  with  the  chosen  people.  But  these  exhortations 
had  as  little  effect  as  those  of  Cannon.  In  a  short  time 
the  whole  Gaelic  army  was  in  full  retreat  towards  Blair. 
Then  the  drums  struck  up:  the  victorious  Puritans  threw 
their  caps  into  the  air,  raised,  with  one  voice,  a  psalm  of 
triumph  and  thanksgiving,  and  waved  their  colors,  colors 
which  were  on  that  day  unfurled  for  the  first  time  in  the 
face  of  an  enemy,  but  which  have  since  been  proudly 
borne  in  every  quarter  of  the  world,  and  which  are  now 
embellished  with  the  Sphinx  and  the  Dragon,  emblems  of 
brave  actions  achieved  in  Egypt  and  China.* 

The  Cameronians  had  good  reason  to  be  joyful  and 
thankful;  for  they  had  finished  the  war.  In  the  rebel  camp 
all  was  discord  and  dejection.  The  Highlanders  blamed 
Cannon;  Cannon  blamed  the  Highlanders;  and  the  host 
which  had  been  the  terror  of  Scotland  melted  fast  away. 
The  confederate  chiefs  signed  an  association  by  which  they 
declared  themselves  faithful  subjects  of  King  James,  and 
bound  themselves  to  meet  again  at  a  future  time.  Having 


♦  Exact  Narrative  of  the  Conflict  at  Dunkeld  between  the  Earl  of  Angus's  Regiment 
and  the  Rebels,  collected  from  several  Officers  of  that  Regiment  who  were  Actors  in  or 
filye-witn esses  of  all  that's  here  narrated  in  Reference  to  those  Actions;  Letter  of 
Lieutenant  Blackader  to  his  brother,  dated  Dunkeld,  Aug.  21,  1689;  Faithful  Contend- 
iCQfs  Difipla}r6d;  Minut«  of  th«  Scotch  Privy  Council  of  August  98,  quoted  bj  Mr.  Barton. 


WILLIAM  ANt>  MARY. 


gone  through  this  form, — for  it  was  no  more, — they  de- 
parted, each  to  his  home.  Cannon  and  his  Irishmen  re* 
tired  to  the  Isle  of  Mull.  The  Lowlanders  who  had  fol- 
lowed Dundee  to  the  mountains  shifted  for  themselves  as 
they  best  could.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  August,  exactly 
four  weeks  after  the  Gaelic  army  had  won  the  battle  of 
Killiecrankie,  that  army  ceased  to  exist.  It  ceased  to  exist, 
as  the  army  of  Montrose  had,  more  than  forty  years  ear- 
lier, ceased  to  exist,  not  in  consequence  of  any  great  blow 
from  without,  but  by  a  natural  dissolution,  the  effect  of  in- 
ternal malformation.  All  the  fruits  of  victory  were  gath- 
ered by  the  vanquished.  The  Castle  of  Blair,  which  had 
been  the  immediate  object  of  the  contest,  opened  its  gates 
to  Mackay;  and  a  chain  of  military  posts,  extending 
northward  as  far  as  Inverness,  protected  the  cultiva- 
tors of  the  plains  against  the  predatory  inroads  of  the 
mountaineers. 

During  the  autumn  the  government  was  much  more  an- 
noyed by  the  Whigs  of  the  low  country  than  by  the  Ja- 
cobites of  the  hills.  The  Club,  which  had,  in  the  late  ses- 
sion of  Parliament,  attempted  to  turn  the  kingdom  into  an 
oligarchical  republic,  and  which  had  induced  the  Estates  to 
refuse  supplies  and  to  stop  the  administration  of  justice, 
continued  to  sit  during  the  recess,  and  harassed  the  min- 
isters of  the  Crown  by  systematic  agitation.  The  organi- 
zation of  this  body,  contemptible  as  it  may  appear  to  the 
generation  which  had  seen  the  Roman  Catholic  Associa- 
tion and  the  League  against  the  Corn  Laws,  was  then 
thought  marvellous  and  formidable.  The  leaders  of  the 
confederacy  boasted  that  they  would  force  the  King  to  do 
them  right.  They  got  up  petitions  and  addresses,  tried 
to  inflame  the  populace  by  means  of  the  press  and  the 
pulpit,  employed  emissaries  among  the  soldiers,  and  talked 
of  bringing  up  a  large  body  of  Covenanters  from  the  west 
to  overawe  the  Privy  Council.  In  spite  of  every  artifice, 
however,  the  ferment  of  the  public  mind  gradually  sub- 
sided. The  government,  after  some  hesitation,  ventured 
to  open  the  courts  of  justice  which  the  Estates  had  closed. 
The  Lords  of  Session  appointed  by  the  King  took  their 
seats;  and  Sir  James  Dalrymple  presided.  The  Club  at- 
tempted to  induce  the  advocates  to  absent  themselves 
from  the  bar,  and  entertained  some  hope  that  the  mob 
would  pull  the  judges  from  the  bench.  But  it  speedily 
became  clear  that  t^iere  was  much  more  likely  to  be  a 


'^9^  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAi^t).  ^ 

scarcity  of  fees  than  of  lawyers  to  take  them:  the  common 
people  of  Edinburgh  were  well  pleased  to  see  again  a  tri- 
bunal associated  in  their  imagination  with  the  dignity  and 
prosperity  of  their  city;  and  by  many  signs  it  appeared 
that  the  false  and  greedy  faction  which  had  commanded  a 
majority  of  the  legislature  did  not  command  a  piajority  of 
the  nation.* 


CHAPTER  XIV.— (1689.90.) 

Twenty-four  hours  before  the  war  in  Scotland  was 
brought  to  a  close  by  the  discomfiture  of  the  Celtic  army 
at  Dunkeld,  the  Parliament  broke  up  at  Westminster.  The 
Houses  had  sate  ever  since  January  without  a  recess.  The 
Commons,  who  were  cooped  up  in  a  narrow  space,  had 
suffered  severely  from  heat  and  discomfort;  and  the  health 
of  many  members  had  given  way.  The  fruit,  however, 
had  not  been  proportioned  to  the  toil.  The  last  three 
months  of  the  session  had  been  almost  entirely  wasted  in 
disputes,  which  have  left  no  trace  in  the  Statute  Book. 
The  progress  of  salutary  laws  had  been  impeded,  some- 
times by  bickerings  between  the  Whigs  and  the  Tories, 
and  sometimes  by  bickerings  between  the  Lords  and  the 
Commons. 

The  Revolution  had  scarcely  been  accomplished  when 
it  appeared  that  the  supporters  of  the  Exclusion  Bill  had 
not  forgotten  what  they  had  suffered  during  the  ascend- 
ency of  their  enemies,  and  were  bent  on  obtaining  both 
reparation  and  revenge.  Even  before  the  throne  was  filled, 
the  Lords  appointed  a  committee  to  examine  into  the  truth 
of  the  frightful  stories  which  had  been  circulated  concern- 
ing the  death  of  Essex.  The  committee,  which  consisted 
of  zealous  Whigs,  continued  its  inquiries  till  all  reasonable 
men  were  convinced  that  he  had  fallen  by  his  own  hand, 
and  till  his  wife,  his  brother,  and  his  most  intimate  friends 
were  desirous  that  the  investigation  should  be  carried  no 
further.f  Atonement  was  made,  without  any  opposition 
on  the  part  of  the  Tories,  to  the  memory  and  the  families  of 


*  The  History  of  Scotland  during  this  autnmn  will  be  best  studied  in  the  Leven  and 
Melville  Papers. 

t  See  the  Lords'  Journals  of  Feb.  q,  1688-9,  and  of  many  subsequent  days;  Braddon't 
pamphlet,  entitled  the  Earl  of  Essex  s  Memory  and  Honour  Vindicated,  1690;  and  the 
London  Gazette  of  July  31,  and  August  4,  and  7,  1690,  in  which  Lady  Essex  and  Burnet 
publicly  contradicted  craddon. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


299 


some  other  victims,  who  were  themselves  beyond  the  reach 
of  human  power.  Soon  after  the  Convention  had  been 
turned  into  a  Parliament,  a  bill  for  reversing  the  attainder 
of  Lord  Russell  was  presented  to  the  peers,  was  speedily- 
passed  by  them,  was  sent  down  to  the  Lower  House,  and 
was  welcomed  there  by  no  common  signs  of  emotion. 
Many  of  the  members  had  sate  in  that  very  chamber  with 
Russell.  He  had  long  exercised  there  an  influence  resem- 
bling the  influence  which,  within  the  memory  of  this  gene- 
ration, belonged  t3  the  upright  and  benevolent  Althorpe; 
an  influence  derived,  not  from  superior  skill  in  debate  or 
in  declamation,  but  from  spotless  integrity,  from  plain 
good  sense,  and  from  that  frankness,  that  simplicity,  that 
good  nature,  which  are  singularly  graceful  and  winning  in 
a  man  raised  by  birth  and  fortune  high  above  his  fellows. 
By  the  Whigs  Russell  had  been  honored  as  a  chief;  and 
his  political  adversaries  had  admitted  that,  when  he  was 
not  misled  by  associates  less  respectable  and  more  artful 
than  himself,  he  was  as  honest  and  kind-hearted  a  gentle- 
man as  any  in  England.  The  manly  firmness  and  Christ- 
ian meekness  with  which  he  had  met  death,  the  desolation 
of  his  noble  house,  the  misery  of  the  bereaved  father,  the 
blighted  prospects  of  the  orphan  children,*  above  all,  the 
union  of  womanly  tenderness  and  angelic  patience  in  her 
who  had  been  dearest  to  the  brave  sufferer,  who  had  sate, 
with  the  pen  in  her  hand,  by  his  side  at  the  bar,  who  had 
cheered  the  gloom  of  his  cell,  and  who,  on  his  last  day,  had 
shared  with  him  the  memorials  of  the  great  sacrifice,  had 
softened  the  hearts  of  many  who  were  little  in  the  habit  of 
pitying  an  opponent.  That  Russell  had  many  good 
qualities,  that  he  had  meant  well,  that  he  had  been  hardly 
used,  was  now  admitted  even  by  courtly  lawyers  who  had 
assisted  in  shedding  his  blood,  and  by  courtly  divines  who 
had  done  their  worst  to  blacken  his  reputation.  When, 
therefore,  the  parchment  which  annulled  his  sentence  was 
laid  on  the  table  of  that  assembly  in  which,  eight  years  be- 
fore, his  face  and  his  voice  had  been  so  well  known,  the 
excitement  was  great.  One  old  Whig  member  tried  to 
speak,  but  was  overcome  by  his  feelings.    "I  cannot,"  he 

♦  Whether  the  attainder  of  Lord  Russell  would,  if  unreversed,  have  prevented  his  son 
from  succeeding  to  the  earldom  of  Bedford,  is  a  difficult  question.  The  old  Earl  col- 
lected the  opinions  of  the  greatest  lawyers  of  the  age,which  may  still  be  seen  among  the 
archives  at  Woburn.  It  is  remarkable  that  one  of  these  opinions  is  signed  by  Pember- 
ton,  who  had  presided  at  the  trial.  This  circumstance  seems  to  prove  that  the  family 
did  not  impute  to  him  any  injustice  or  cruelty;  and  in  truth  he  had  behaved  as  well  as 
may  judge,  before  the  Revolution^  ever  behaved  on  a  similar  occasion. 


300  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

faltered  out,  ^^name  my  Lord  Russell  without  disorder.  It 
is  enough  to  name  him.  I  am  not  able  to  say  more." 
Many  eyes  were  directed  towards  that  part  of  the  house 
where  Finch  sate.  The  highly  honorable  manner  in  which 
he  had  quitted  a  lucrative  office,  as  soon  as  he  had  found 
that  he  could  not  keep  it  without  supporting  the  dispens- 
ing power,  and  the  conspicuous  part  which  he  had  borne 
in  the  defence  of  the  bishops,  had  done  much  to  atone  for 
his  faults.  Yet,  on  this  day,  it  could  not  be  forgotten  that 
he  had  strenuously  exerted  himself,  as  counsel  for  the 
Crown,  to  obtain  that  judgment  which  was  now  to  be 
solemnly  revoked.  He  rose,  and  attempted  to  defend  his 
conduct:  but  neither  his  legal  acuteness,  nor  that  fluent 
and  sonorous  elocution  w^hich  was  in  his  family  an  heredit- 
ary gift,  and  of  which  none  of  his  family  had  a  larger  share 
than  himself,  availed  him  on  this  occasion.  The  House 
was  in  no  humor  to  hear  him,  and  repeatedly  interrupted 
him  by  cries  of  "Order."  He  had  been  treated,  he  was  told, 
with  great  indulgence.  No  accusation  had  been  brought 
against  him.  Why  then  should  he,  under  pretence  of  vin- 
dicating himself,  attempt  to  throw  dishonorable  imputa- 
tions on  an  illustrious  name,  and  to  apologize  for  a  judicial 
murder?  He  was  forced  to  sit  down,  after  declaring  that 
he  meant  only  to  clear  himself  from  the  charge  of  having 
exceeded  the  limits  of  his  professional  duty,  that  he  dis- 
claimed all  intention  of  attacking  the  memory  of  Lord 
Russell,  and  that  he  should  sincerely  rejoice  at  the  revers- 
ing of  the  attainder.  Before  the  House  rose  the  bill  was 
read  a  second  time,  and  would  have  been  instantly  read  a 
third  time  and  passed,  had  not  some  additions  and  omis- 
sions been  proposed,  which  would,  it  was  thought,  make 
the  reparation  more  complete.  The  amendments  were 
prepared  with  great  expedition;  the  Lords  agreed  to  them; 
and  the  King  gladly  gave  his  assent.* 

This  bill  was  soon  followed  by  three  other  bills  which 
annulled  three  wicked  and  infamous  judgments,  the  judg- 
ment, against  Sidney,  the  judgment  against  Cornish,  and 
the  judgment  against  Alice  Lisle.f 

Some  living  Whigs  obtained  without  difficulty  redress 
for  injuries  which  they  had  suffered  in  the  late  reign.  The 
sentence  of  Samuel  Johnson  was  taken  into  consideration 

♦  Grey's  Debates,  March  1688-9. 

t  The  Acts  which  reversed  the  attainders  of  Russell,  Sidney,  Cornish,  and  Alice  Lisle 
were  private  Acts.  Only  the  titles  therefore  are  printed  in  the  Statute  Book:  but  the 
Acts  will  be  found  in  Howell's  Collection  of  State  Trials. 


WIUIAM  THt  THIKB^ 


301 


hj  the  House  of  Commons.  It  was  resolved  that  the 
•courging  which  he  had  undergone  was  cruel,  and  that  his 
degradation  was  of  no  legal  effect.  The  latter  proposition 
admitted  of  no  dispute :  for  he  had  been  degraded  by  the 
prelates  who  had  been  appointed  to  govern  the  diocese  of 
London  during  Compton's  suspension.  Compton  had  been 
suspended  by  a  decree  of  the  High  Commission ;  and  the 
decrees  of  the  High  Commission  were  universally  ac- 
knowledged to  be  nullities.  Johnson  had,  therefore,  been 
stripped  of  his  robe  by  persons  who  had  no  jurisdiction 
over  him.  The  Commons  requested  the  king  to  compensate 
the  sufferer  by  some  ecclesiastical  preferment.*  William,  how- 
ever, found  that  he  could  not,  without  great  inconvenience, 
grant  this  request.  For  Johnson,  though  brave,  honest,  and 
religious,  had  always  been  rash,  mutinous  and  quarrelsome ; 
and,  since  he  had  endured  for  his  opinions  a  martyrdom  more 
terrible  than  death,  the  infirmities  of  his  temper  and  under- 
standing had  increased  to  such  a  degree  that  he  was  as  offen- 
sive to  Low  Churchmen  as  to  High  Churchmen.  Like  too  many 
other  men,  who  are  not  to  be  turned  from  the  path  of  right 
by  pleasure,  by  lucre,  or  by  danger,  he  mistook  the  impulses 
of  his  pride  and  resentment  for  the  monitions  of  conscience, 
and  deceived  himself  into  a  belief  that  in  treating  friends  and 
foes  with  indiscriminate  insolence  and  asperity,  he  was  merely 
showing  his  Christian  faithfulness  and  courage.  Burnet, 
by  exhorting  him  to  patience  and  forgiveness  of  injuries, 
made  him  a  mortal  enemy.  "  Tell  his  Lordship,"  said  the 
inflexible  priest,  "  to  mind  his  own  business,  and  to  let  me 
look  after  mine."t  It  soon  began  to  be  whispered  that 
Johnson  was  mad.  He  accused  Burnet  of  being  the  author 
of  the  report,  and  avenged  himself  by  writing  libels  so  violent 
that  they  strongly  confirmed  the  imputation  which  they  were 
meant  to  refute.  The  King  thought  it  better  to  give  out  of 
his  own  revenue  a  liberal  compensation  for  wrongs  which 
the  Commons  had  brought  to  his  notice  than  to  place  an 
eccentric  and  irritable  man  in  a  situation  of  dignity  and 
public  trust,  Johnson  was  gratified  with  a  present  of  a 
thousand  pounds  and  a  pension  of  three  hundred  a  year 
for  two  lives.  His  son  was  also  provided  for  in  the  public 
service.^ 

•  Commons*  Journals,  June  24,  168^ 

t  Johnson  tells  this  story  himself  in  his  strange  pamphlet  entitled.  Notes  upon  tha 
Phoenix  Edition  of  the  Pastoral  Letter,  1694. 

t  Some  Memorials  of  the  Reverend  Samuel  Johnson,  prefixed  to  the  folio  edition  el  his 


imroitY  OF  BKOLANa 


While  the  Commons  were  considering  the  case  of  Johnson, 

the  Lords  were  scrutinizing  with  severity  the  proceedings 
which  had,  in  the  late  reign,  been  instituted  against  one  of 
their  own  order,  the  Earl  of  Devonshire.  The  judges  who 
had  passed  sentence  on  him  were  strictly  interrogated;  and 
a  resolution  was  passed  declaring  that  in  his  case  the  privi- 
leges of  the  peerage  had  been  infringed,  and  that  the  Court 
of  King's  Bench,  in  punishing  a  hasty  blow  by  a  fine  of  thirty 
thousand  pounds,  had  violated  common  justice  and  the  Great 
Charter* 

In  the  cases  which  have  been  mentioned,  all  parties  seem 
to  have  agreed  in  thinking  that  some  public  reparation  was 
due.  But  the  fiercest  passions  both  of  Whigs  and  Tories 
were  soon  roused  by  the  noisy  claims  of  a  wretch  whose 
suflFerings,  great  as  they  might  seem,  had  been  trifling  when 
compared  with  his  crimes.  Oates  had  come  back,  like  a  ghost 
from  the  place  of  punishment,  to  haunt  the  spots  which  had 
been  polluted  by  his  guilt.  The  three  years  and  a  half  which 
followed  his  scourging  he  had  passed  in  one  of  the  cells  of 
Newgate,  except  when  on  certain  days,  the  anniversaries  of 
his  perjuries,  he  had  been  brought  forth  and  set  on  the  pil- 
lory. He  was  still,  however,  regarded  by  many  fanatics  as  a 
martyr ;  and  it  was  said  that  they  were  able  so  far  to  corrupt 
his  keepers  that,  in  spite  of  positive  orders  from  the  govern* 
ment,  his  sufferings  were  mitigated  by  many  indulgences. 
While  offenders,  who,  compared  with  him,  were  innocent, 
grew  lean  on  the  prison  allowance,  his  cheer  was  mended  by 
turkeys  and  chines,  capons  and  sucking  pigs,  venison  pasties 
and  hampers  of  claret,  the  offerings  of  zealous  Protestants.f 
When  James  had  fled  from  Whitehall,  and  when  London 
was  in  confusion,  it  was  moved,  in  the  Council  of  Lords 
which  had  provisionally  assumed  the  direction  of  affairs, 
that  Oates  should  be  set  at  liberty.  The  motion  was  re- 
jected :t  but  the  jailers,  not  knowing  whom  to  obey  in 
that  time  of  anarchy,  and  desiring  to  conciliate  a  man  who 
had  once  been,  and  might  perhaps  again  be,  a  terrible 
enemy,  allowed  their  prisoner  to  go  freely  about  the 
town.§  His  uneven  legs  and  his  hideous  face,  made  more 
hideous  by  the  shearing  which  his  ears  had  undergone,  were 


♦  Lords*  Jouraals,  May  15,  1689. 

t  North's  Examen.  224.     North's  evidence  1%  confirmee!  by  serera)  contemponury 
•quibs  in  prose  and  verse.    See  also  the  elKQV  ffpoToXei/Cov^  1697. 
t  Halifax  MS.  in  the  British  Museum.  ' 
f  Epistit  dedicatory  to  Oatea's  sIkcjv  fiaaOut^ 


WILLIAM  AKO  RARY. 


now  again  seen  every  day  in  Westminster  Hall  and  the  Court 
of  Requests.*  He  fastened  himself  on  his  old  patrons,  and, 
in  that  drawl  which  he  affected  as  a  mark  of  gentility,  gave 
them  the  history  of  his  wrongs  and  of  his  hopes.  It  was  im- 
possible, he  said,  that  now,  when  the  good  cause  was  trium- 
phant, the  discoverer  of  the  plot  could  be  overlooked.  "  Charles 
gave  me  nine  hundred  pounds  a  year.  Sure  William  will  give 
me  more."t 

In  a  few  weeks  he  brought  his  sentence  before  the  House 
of  Lords  by  a  writ  of  error.  This  is  a  species  of  appeal 
which  raises  no  question  of  fact.  The  Lords,  while  sitting 
judicially  on  the  writ  of  error,  were  not  competent  to  examine 
whether  the  verdict  which  pronounced  Gates  guilty  was  or 
was  not  according  to  the  evidence.  All  that  they  had  to  con- 
sider was  whether,  the  verdict  being  supposed  to  be  according 
to  the  evidence,  the  judgment  was  legal.  But  it  would  have 
been  difficult  even  for  a  tribunal  composed  of  veteran  magis- 
trates, and  was  almost  impossible  for  an  assembly  of  noble- 
men who  were  all  strongly  biassed  on  one  side  or  on  the  other, 
and  among  whom  there  was  at  that  time  not  a  single  person 
whose  mind  had  been  disciplined  by  the  study  of  jurispru- 
dence, to  look  steadily  at  the  mere  point  of  law,  abstracted 
from  the  special  circumstances  of  the  case.  In  the  view  of 
one  party,  a  party  which  even  among  the  Whig  peers  was 
probably  a  small  minority,  the  appellant  was  a  man  who  had 
rendered  inestimable  service  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  reli-* 
gion,  and  who  had  been  requited  by  long  confinement,  by  de- 
grading exposure,  and  by  torture  not  to  be  thought  of  without 
a  shudder.  The  majority  of  the  House  more  justly  regarded 
him  as  the  falsest,  the  most  malignant,  and  the  most  im- 
pudent being  that  had  ever  disgraced  the  human  form. 
The  sight  of  that  brazen  forehead,  the  accents  of  that  lying 
tongue,  deprived  them  of  all  mastery  over  themselves. 
Many  of  them  doubtless  remembered  with  shame  and  re- 
morse that  they  had  been  his  dupes,  and  that,  on  the  very 


*  In  a  ballad  of  the  time  are  the  follo^ng  lines  i 

*•  Come  listen,  ye  Whigs,  to  my  pitiful  moan. 
All  you  that  have  ears,  when  the  Doctor  has  none. 

Theso  lines  most  have  been  in  Mason's  head  when  he  wrote  the  couplet 

"  Witness,  ye  Hills,  ye  Johnsons,  Scots,  Shebbearei ) 
Hark  to  my  call ;  for  some  of  you  have  ears." 

t  North's  Examen.  224,  254,  North  says  "  six  hundred  a  year."  But  I  have  taken  tkt 
lirger  sum  from  the  impudent  petition  which  Gates  addressed  to  tht  Commons.  July  tb 
1689.   See  the  Journals 


$H  HistOEY  or  BNOUUra 

last  occasion  on  which  he  had  stood  before  them,  he  had 
by  perjury  induced  them  to  shed  the  blood  of  one  of  their 
own  illustrious  order.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  a 
crowd  of  gentlemen  under  the  influence  of  feelings  like 
these  would  act  with  the  cold  impartiality  of  a  court  of 
justice.  Before  they  came  to  any  decision  on  the  legal 
question  which  Titus  had  brought  before  them,  they  picked 
a  succession  of  quarrels  with  him.  He  had  published  a 
paper  magnifying  his  merits  and  his  sufferings.  The  Lords 
found  out  some  pretence  for  calling  this  publication  a 
breach  of  privilege,  and  sent  him  to  the  Marshalsea.  He 
petitioned  to  be  released :  but  an  objection  was  raised  to 
his  petition.  He  had  described  himself  as  a  Doctor  of 
Divinity;  and  their  lordships  refused  to  acknowledge  him 
as  such.  He  was  brought  to  their  bar,  and  asked  where  he 
had  graduated.  He  answered,  "At  the  university  of  Sala- 
manca." This  was  no  new  instance  of  his  mendacity  and 
effrontery.  His  Salamanca  degree  had  been,  during  many 
years,  a  favorite  theme  of  all  the  Tory  satirists  from  Dryden 
downwards :  and  even  on  the  continent  the  Salamanca  Doctor 
was  a  nickname  in  ordinary  use.*  The  Lords,  in  their  hatred 
of  Gates,  so  far  forgot  their  own  dignity  as  to  treat  this  ridicul- 
ous matter  seriously.  They  ordered  him  to  efface  from  his 
petition  the  words  "  Doctor  of  Divinity."  He  replied  that  he 
could  not  in  conscience  do  it ;  and  he  was  accordingly  sent 
back  to  gaol.f 

These  preliminary  proceedings  indicated,  not  obscurely, 
what  the  fate  of  the  writ  of  error  would  be.  The  counsel  for 
Gates  had  been  heard.  No  counsel  appeared  against  him.  The 
Judges  were  required  to  give  their  opinions.  Nine  of  them 
were  in  attendance ;  and  among  the  nine  were  the  Chiefs  of 
three  Courts  of  Common  Law.  The  unanimous  answer  of  these 
grave,  learned,  and  upright  magistrates  was  that  the  Court  of 
King's  Bench  was  not  competent  to  degrade  a  priest  from  his 
sacred  office,  or  to  pass  a  sentence  of  perpetual  imprisonment ; 
and  that,  therefore,  the  judgment  against  Gates  was  contrary  to 
law,  and  ought  to  be  reversed.  The  Lords  should  undoubtedly 
have  considered  themselves  as  bound  by  this  opinion.  That 
they  knew  Gates  to  be  the  worst  of  men  was  nothing  to 
the  purpose.  To  them,  sitting  as  a  court  of  justice,  he 
ought  to  have  been  merely  a  John  of  Style,  or  a  John  of 


*  Van  Cittere,  in  hit  detpatchet  to  tiM  States  General,  uses  thta  nkknairw  qoita  gntTalvi 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


Nokes.  But  their  indignation  was  violently  excited.  Their 
habits  were  not  those  which  fit  men  for  the  discharge  of 
judicial  duties.  The  debate  turned  almost  entirely  on 
matters  to  which  no  allusion  ought  to  have  been  made. 
Not  a  single  peer  ventured  to  affirm  that  the  judgment  was 
legal:  but  much  was  said  about  the  odious  character  of  the 
appellant,  about  the  impudent  accusation  which  he  had 
brought  against  Catherine  of  Braganza,  and  about  the  evil 
consequences  which  might  follow  if  so  bad  a  man  were 
capable  of  being  a  witness.  *^There  is  only  one  way,"  saia 
tlie  Lord  President,  "in  wliich  I  can  consent  to  reverse  the 
fellow's  sentence.  He  has  been  whipped  from  Aldgate  to 
Tyburn.  He  ought  to  be  whipped  from  Tyburn  back  to 
Aldgate."  The  question  was  put.  Twenty-three  peers 
voted  for  reversing  the  judgment;  thirty-five  for  affirm- 
ing it.* 

This  decision  produced  a  great  sensation,  and  not  with- 
out reason.  A  question  was  now  raised  which  might  justly 
excite  the  anxiety  of  every  man  in  the  kingdom.  That 
question  was  whether  the  highest  tribunal,  the  tribunal  on 
which,  in  the  last  resort,  depended  the  most  precious  in- 
terests of  every  English  subject,  was  at  liberty  to  decide 
judicial  questions  on  other  than  judicial  grounds,  and  to 
withhold  from  a  suitor  what  was  admitted  to  be  his  legal 
right,  on  account  of  the  depravity  of  his  moral  character. 
That  the  supreme  Court  of  Appeal  ought  not  to  be  suffered 
to  exercise  arbitrary  power,  under  the  forms  of  ordinary 
justice,  was  strongly  felt  by  the  ablest  men  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  by  none  more  strongly  than  by  Somers, 
With  him,  and  with  those  who  reasoned  like  him,  were,  on 
this  occasion,  allied  all  the  weak  and  hot-headed  zealots 
who  still  regarded  Oates  as  a  public  benefactor,  and  who 
imagined  that  to  question  the  existence  of  the  Popish  plot 
was  to  question  the  truth  of  the  Protestant  religion.  On 
the  very  morning  after  the  decision  of  the  Peers  had  been 
pronounced,  keen  reflections  were  thrown,  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  on  the  justice  of  their  lordships.  Three  days 
later,  the  subject  was  brought  forward  by  a  Whig  Privy 
Councillor,  Sir  Robert  Howard,  member  for  Castle  Rising. 
He  was  one  of  the  Berkshire  branch  of  his  noble  family,  a 
branch  which  enjoyed,  in  that  age,  the  unenviable  distinc- 
tion of  being  wonderfully  fertile  of  bad  rhymers.  The 

*  Lords' Journals,  May  31,  1689.  Commons'  Journals,  Aug;.  2;  North's  Ejfamen^  231J 
Jiarcissus  LuttrcU's  piary. 


3o6 


HISTORY  or  ENGLAND. 


poetry  of  the  Berkshire  Howards  was  the  jest  of  three 
generations  of  satirists.  The  mirth  began  with  the  first 
representation  of  the  Rehearsal,  and  continued  down  to 
the  last  edition  of  the  Dunciad.*  But  Sir  Robert,  in  spite 
of  his  bad  verses,  and  of  some  foibles  and  vanities  which 
had  caused  him  to  be  brought  on  the  stage  under  the  name 
of  Sir  Positive  Atall,  had  in  Parliament  the  weight  which  a 
stanch  party  man,  of  ample  fortune,  of  illustrious  name,  of 
ready  utterance,  and  of  resolute  spirit,  can  scarcely  fail  to 
possess. f  When  he  rose  to  call  the  attention  of  the  Com- 
mons to  the  case  of  Oates,  some  Tories,  animated  by  the 
same  passions  which  had  prevailed  in  the  other  House, 
received  him  with  loud  hisses.  In  spite  of  this  most  un- 
parliamentary insult,  he  persevered;  and  it  soon  appeared 
that  the  majority  was  with  him.  Some  orators  extolled 
the  patriotism  and  courage  of  Oates:  others  dwelt  much 
on  a  prevaiJing  rumor,  that  the  solicitors  who  were  em- 
ployed against  him  on  behalf  of  the  Crown,  had  dis- 
tributed large  sums  of  money  among  the  jurymen.  These 
were  topics  on  which  there  was  much  difference  of  opinion. 
But  that  the  sentence  was  illegal  was  a  proposition  which 
admitted  of  no  dispute.  The  most  eminent  lawyers  in  the 
House  of  Commons  declared  that,  on  this  point,  they  en- 
tirely concurred  in  the  opinion  given  by  the  judges  in  the 
House  of  Lords.  Those  who  had  hissed  when  the  subject 
was  introduced  were  so  effectually  cowed  that  they  did 
not  venture  to  demand  a  division;  and  a  bill  annulling  the 
sentence  was  brought  in,  without  any  opposition. J 

The  Lords  were  in  an  embarrassing  situation.  To  retract 
was  not  pleasant.  To  engage  in  a  contest  with  the  Lower 
House,  on  a  question  on  which  that  House  was  clearly  in 
the  right,  and  was  backed  at  once  by  the  opinions  of  the 
sages  of  the  law,  and  by  the.  passions  of  the  populace, 
might  be  dangerous.  It  was  thought  expedient  to  take  a 
middle  course.  An  address  was  presented  to  the  King, 
requesting  him  to  pardon  Oates, §  But  this  concession  only 

*  Sir  Robert  was  the  original  hero  of  the  Rehearsal,  and  was  called  Bilboa.  In  the  re- 
modelled Dunciad,  Pope  inserted  the  Lines — 

"And  highborn  Howard,  more  majestic  sire, 
With  Fool  of  Quality  completes  the  quire." 
Pope's  highborn  Howard  was  Edward  Howard,  the  author  of  the  Brirish  Princesi,  Dor- 
set ridiculed  Edward  Howard's  poetry  in  a  short  satire,  in  which  thought  and  arc 
packed  as  close  as  in  the  finest  passages  of  Hudibras. 

t  Key  to  the  Rehearsal;  Shadwell's  Sullen  Lovers;  Pepys,  May  5^8, 1668?  Evelyn,  Feb* 
i6,  1684-5. 

t  Grey's  Debates  and  Commons'  Journals,  June  4,  and  11,  j68p. 
f  Xx>rcl»'  Journals,  Ju^e  6, 1689. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


made  bad  worse.  Titus  had,  like  every  other  human  be- 
ing, a  right  to  justice:  but  he  was  not  a  proper  object  of 
mercy.  If  the  judgment  against  him  was  illegal,  it  ought 
to  have  been  reversed.  If  it  was  legal,  there  was  no  ground 
for  remitting  any  portion  of  it.  The  Commons,  very 
properly,  persisted,  passed  their  bill,  and  sent  it  up  to  the 
Peers.  Of  this  bill  the  only  objectionable  part  was  the 
preamble,  which  asserted,  not  only  that  the  judgment  was 
illegal,  a  proposition  which  appeared  on  the  face  of  the 
record  to  be  true,  but  also  that  the  verdict  was  corrupt,  a 
proposition  which,  whether  true  or  false,  was  certainly  not 
proved. 

The  Lords  were  in  a  great  strait.  They  knew  that  they 
were  in  the  wrong.  Yet  they  were  determined  not  to  pro- 
claim, in  their  legislative  capacity,  that  they  had,  in  their 
judicial  capacity,  been  guilty  of  injustice.  They  again 
tried  a  middle  course.  The  preamble  was  softened  down: 
a  clause  was  added  which  provided  that  Oates  should  still 
remain  incapable  of  being  a  witness;  and  the  bill  thus 
altered  was  returned  to  the  Commons. 

The  Commons  were  not  satisfied.  They  rejected  the 
amendments,  and  demanded  a  free  conference.  Two  emi- 
nent Tories,  Rochester  and  Nottingham,  took  their  seats 
in  the  Painted  Chamber  as  managers  for  the  Lords.  With 
them  was  joined  Burnet,  whose  well  known  hatred  of 
Popery  was  likely  to  give  weight  to  what  he  might  say  on 
such  an  occasion.  Somers  was  the  chief  orator  on  the 
other  side:  and  to  his  pen  we  owe  a  singularly  lucid  and 
interesting  abstract  of  the  debate. 

The  Lords  frankly  owned  that  the  judgment  of  the 
Court  of  King's  Bench  could  not  be  defended.  They  knew 
it  to  be  illegal,  and  had  known  it  to  be  so  even  when  they 
affirmed  it.  But  they  had  acted  for  the  best.  They  ac- 
cused Oates  of  bringing  an  impudently  false  accusation 
against  Queen  Catharine;  they  mentioned  other  instances 
of  his  villainy;  and  they  asked  whether  such  a  man  ought 
still  to  be  capable  of  giving  testimony  in  a  court  of  justice. 
The  only  excuse  which  in  their  opinion  could  be  made  for 
him  was,  that  he  was  insane;  and  in  truth,  the  incredible 
insolence  and  absurdity  of  his  behavior  when  he  was  last 
before  them  seemed  to  warrant  the  belief  that  his  brain  had 
been  turned,  and  that  he  was  not  to  be  trusted  with  the 
lives  of  other  men.  The  Lords  could  not  therefore  de- 
grade themselves  by  expressly  rescinding  what  they  had 


3o8 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


done;  nor  could  they  consent  to  pronounce  the  verdict  cor- 
rupt on  no  better  evidence  than  common  report. 

The  reply  was  complete  and  triumphant.  "Oates  is  now 
llhe  smallest  part  of  the  question.  He  has,  Your  Lordships 
'say,  falsely  accused  the  Queen  Dowager  and  other  innocent 
persons.  Be  it  so.  This  bill  gives  him  no  indemnity.  We 
are  quite  willing,  that,  if  he  is  guilty,  he  shall  be  punished. 
But  for  him,  and  for  all  Englishmen,  we  demand  that 
punishment  shall  be  regulated  by  law,  and  not  by  the  arbi- 
trary discretion  of  any  tribunal.  We  demand  that  when  a 
writ  of  error  is  before  Your  Lordships,  you  shall  give  judg- 
ment on  it  according  to  the  known  customs  and  statutes  of 
the  realm.  We  deny  that  you  have  any  right,  on  such  an 
occasion,  to  take  into  consideration  the  moral  character  of 
a  plantiff  or  the  political  effect  of  a  decision.  It  is  acknowl- 
edged by  yourselves  that  you  have,  merely  because  you 
thought  ill  of  this  man,  affirmed  a  judgment  which  you 
knew  to  be  illegal.  Against  this  assumption  of  arbitrary 
power  the  Commons  protest;  and  they  hope  that  you  will 
now  redeem  what  you  must  feel  to  be  an  error.  Your  Lord- 
ships intimate  a  suspicion  that  Oates  is  mad.  That  a  man 
is  mad  may  be  a  very  good  reason  for  not  punishing  him  at 
all.  But  how  it  can  be  a  reason  for  inflicting  on  him  a 
punishment  which  would  be  illegal  even  if  he  were  sane, 
the  Commons  do  not  comprehend.  Your  Lordships  think 
that  you  should  not  be  justified  in  calling  a  verdict  corrupt 
which  has  not  been  legally  proved  to  be  so.  Suffer  us  to 
remind  you  that  you  have  two  distinct  functions  to  per- 
form. You  are  judges,  and  you  are  legislators.  When 
you  judge,  your  duty  is  strictly  to  follow  the  law.  When 
you  legislate,  you  may  properly  take  facts  from  common 
fame.  You  invert  this  rule.  You  are  lax  in  the  wrong 
place,  and  scrupulous  in  the  wrong  place.  As  judges,  you 
break  through  the  law  for  the  sake  of  a  supposed  con- 
venience. As  legislators,  you  will  not  admit  any  fact 
without  such  technical  proof  as  it  is  rarely  possible  for 
legislators  to  obtain."* 

This  reasoning  was  not  and  could  not  be  answered.  The 
Commons  were  evidently  flushed  with  their  victory  in  the 
argument,  and  proud  of  the  appearance  which  So-mers  had 
made  in  the  Painted  Chamber.    They  particularly  charged 

♦  Commons'  Journals,  A.ug.  2,  1689 ;  Dutch  Ambassadors  Extraordinary  to  the  States 


General, 


ly  8 
Aug.  9. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


him  to  see  that  the  report  which  he  had  made  of  the  con- 
ference was  accurately  entered  in  the  journals.  The  Lords 
very  wisely  abstained  from  inserting  in  their  records  an 
account  of  a  debate  in  which  they  had  been  so  signally  dis- 
comfited. But,  though  conscious  of  their  fault,  and  ashamed 
of  it,  they  could  not  be  brought  to  do  public  penance  by 
owning  in  the  preamble  of  the  Act,  that  they  had  been 
guilty  of  injustice.  The  minority  was,  however,  strong. 
The  resolution  to  adhere  was  carried  by  only  twelve  votes, 
of  which  ten  were  proxies.*  Twenty-one  Peers  protested. 
The  Bill  dropped.  Two  Masters  in  Chancery  were  sent  to 
announce  to  the  Commons  the  final  resolution  of  the  Peers. 
The  Commons  thought  this  proceeding  unjustifiable  in 
substance  and  uncourteous  in  form.  They  determined  to 
remonstrate;  and  Somers  drew  up  an  excellent  manifesto, 
in  which  the  vile  name  of  Oates  was  scarcely  mentioned, 
and  in  which  the  Upper  House  was  with  great  earnestness 
and  gravity  exhorted  to  treat  judicial  questions  judicially, 
and  not,  under  pretence  of  administering  law,  to  make  law.f 
The  wretched  man,  who  had  now  a  second  time  thrown 
the  political  world  into  confusion,  received  a  pardon,  and 
was  set  at  liberty.  His  friends  in  the  Lower  House  moved 
an  address  to  the  Throne,  requesting  that  a  pension  suffi- 
cient for  his  support  might  be  granted  to  himj  He  was 
consequently  allowed  about  three  hundred  a  year,  a  sum 
which  he  thought  unworthy  of  his  acceptance,  and  whicb 
he  took  with  the  savage  snarl  of  disappointed  greediness. 

From  the  dispute  about  Oates  sprang  another  dispute, 
which  might  have  produced  very  serious  consequences. 
The  instrument  which  had  declared  William  and  Mary 
King  and  Queen  was  a  revolutionary  instrument.  It  had 
been  drawn  up  by  an  assembly  unknown  to  the  ordinary 
law,  and  had  never  received  the  royal  sanction.  It  was 
evidently  desi-aable  that  this  great  contract  between  the 
governors  and  the  governed,  this  title-deed  by  which  the 
King  held  his  throne  and  the  people  their  liberties,  should 
be  put  into  a  strictly  regular  form.  The  Declaration  of 
Rights  was  therefore  turned  into  a  Bill  of  Rights;  and  the 
Bill  of  Rights  speedily  passed  the  Commons:  but  in  the 
Lords  difficulties  arose. 

The  Declaration  had  settled  the  crown,  first  on  William 

*  Lords'  Journals,  July  30,  1689;  Luttrell's  Diary;  Clarendon's  Diary,  July  31,  1689. 
+  See  the  Commons'  Journals  of  July  31,  aad  August  13,  1689. 
Ij^  Commons'  Journals,  Aug.  20. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  Mary  jointly,  then  on  the  survivor  of  the  two,  then  on 
Mary's  posterity,  then  on  Anne  and  her  posterity,  and, 
lastly,  on  the  posterity  of  William  by  any  other  wife  than  ( 
Mary.  The  Bill  had  been  drawn  in  exact  conformity  with', 
the  Declaration.  Who  was  to  succeed  if  Mary,  Anne,  and 
William  should  all  die  without  posterity,  was  left  in  uncer- 
tainty. Yet  the  event  for  which  no  provision  was  made 
was  far  from  improbable.  Indeed  it  really  came  to  pass. 
William  had  never  had  a  child.  Anne  had  repeatedly  been  a 
mother,  but  had  no  child  living.  It  would  not  be  very 
strange  if,  in  a  few  months,  disease,  war,  or  treason  should 
remove  all  those  who  stood  in  the  entail.  In  what  state 
would  the  country  then  be  left?  To  whom  would  allegiance 
be  due?  The  Bill  indeed  contained  a  clause  which  excluded 
Papists  from  the  throne.  But  would  such  a  clause  supply 
the  place  of  a  clause  designating  the  successor  by  name? 
What  if  the  next  heir  should  be  a  prince  of  the  House  of 
Savoy  not  three  months  old?  It  would  be  absurd  to  call 
such  an  infant  a  Papist.  Was  he  then  to  be  proclaimed 
King?  Or  was  the  crown  to  be  in  abeyance  till  he  came  to 
an  age  at  which  he  might  be  capable  of  choosing  a  religion? 
Might  not  the  most  honest  and  the  most  intelligent  men  be 
in  doubt  whether  they  ought  to  regard  him  as  their  Sove- 
reign? And  to  whom  could  they  look  for  a  solution  of  this 
doubt?  Parliament  there  would  be  none:  for  the  Parlia- 
ment would  expire  with  the  prince  who  had  convoked  it. 
There  would  be  mere  anarchy,  anarchy  which  might  end  in 
the  destruction  of  the  monarchy,  or  in  the  destruction  of 
public  liberty.  For  these  weighty  reasons,  Burnet,  at  Wil- 
liam's suggestion,  proposed  in  the  House  of  Lords  that  the 
crown  should,  failing  heirs  of  his  Majesty's  body,  be  entailed 
on  an  undoubted  Protestant,  Sophia,  Duchess  of  Bruns- 
wick Lunenburg,  grand  daughter  of  James  the  First,  and 
daughter  of  Elizabeth,  Queen  of  Bohemia. 

The  Lords  unanimously  assented  to  this  amendment: 
but  the  Commons  unanimously  rejected  it.  The  cause  of 
the  rejection  no  contemporary  writer  has  satisfactorily  ex- 
plained. One  Whig  historian  talks  of  the  machinations  of 
the  republicans,  another  of  the  machinations  of  the  Jacob- 
ites.^  But  it  is  quite  certain  that  four-fifths  of  the  represent- 

*  Oldmixon  accuses  the  Jacobites,  Burnet  the  Republicans.  Though  Burnet  took  a 
prominent  part  in  the  discussion  of  this  question,  his  account  of  what  passed  is  grossly 
inaccurate.  He  says  that  the  clause  was  warmly  debated  in  the  Commons,  and  that 
Hampden  spoke  strongly  for  it.  But  we  learn  from  the  Journal*  (June  i9,  1689)  that  it 
was  rejected  ncmine  contradicente.  The  Dutch  Ambassadors  _des(5(tibe  it  as  "con  pro- 
positic  'twelck  geen  ingressie  schynt  te  sullen  vindcn." 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


atives  of  the  people  were  neither  Jacobites  nor  republicans. 
Yet  not  a  single  voice  was  raised  in  the  Lower  House  in 
favor  of  the  clause  which  in  the  Upper  House  had  been 
carried  by  acclamation.  The  most  probable  explanation 
seems  to  be  that  the  gross  injustice  which  had  been  com- 
mitted in  the  case  of  Oates  had  irritated  the  Commons  to 
such  a  degree  that  they  were  glad  of  an  opportunity  to 
quarrel  with  the  Peers.  A  conference  was  held.  Neither 
assembly  would  give  way.  While  the  dispute  was  hottest, 
an  event  took  place  which,  it  might  have  been  thought, 
would  have  restored  harmony.  Anne  gave  birth  to  a  son. 
The  child  was  baptized  at  Hampton  Court  with  great  pomp, 
and  with  many  signs  of  public  joy.  William  was  one  of  the 
sponsors.  The  other  was  the  accomplished  Dorset,  whose 
roof  had  given  shelter  to  the  Princess  in  her  distress.  The 
King  bestowed  his  own  name  on  his  godson,  and  announced 
to  the  splendid  circle  assembled  round  the  font  that  the 
little  William  was  henceforth  to  be  called  Duke  of  Glou. 
cester.* 

The  birth  of  this  child  had  greatly  diminished  the  risk 
against  which  the  Lords  had  thought  it  necessary  to  guard. 
They  might  therefore  have  retracted  with  a  good  grace. 
But  their  pride  had  been  wounded  by  the  severity  with 
which  their  decision  on  Oates's  writ  of  error  had  been  cen- 
sured in  the  Painted  Chamber.  They  had  been  plainly 
told  across  the  table  that  they  were  unjust  judges;  and  the 
imputation  was  not  the  less  irritating,  because  they  were 
conscious  that  it  was  deserved.  They  refused  to  make  any 
concession;  and  the  Bill  of  Rights  was  suffered  to  drop.f 

But  the  most  exciting  question  of  this  long  and  stormy 
session  was,  what  punishment  should  be  inflicted  on  those 
men  who  had,  during  the  interval  between  the  dissolution 
of  the  Oxford  Parliament  and  the  Revolution,  been  the 
advisers  or  the  tools  of  Charles  and  James.  It  was  happy 
for  England  that,  at  this  crisis,  a  prince  who  belonged  to 
neither  of  her  factions,  who  loved  neither,  who  hated  nei- 
ther, and  who,  for  the  accomplishment  of  a  great  design, 
wished  to  make  use  of  both,  was  the  moderator  between 
them. 

The  two  parties  were  now  in  a  position  closely  resembling 
that  in  which  they  had  been  twenty-eight  years  before. 


tLondon  Gazette,  Aug.  i,  1689;  Luttrell's  Diary. 

*  The  History  of  this  Bill  may  be  traced  in  the  Journal^  of  the  twp  Houses,  and  in 
Grey's  Debates. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  party  indeed  which  had  then  been  undermost  was  now 
uppermost:  but  the  analogy  between  the  situations  is  one 
of  the  most  perfect  that  can  be  found  in  history.  Both  the 
Restoration  and  the  Revolution  were  accomplished  by  co- 
alitions. At  the  Restoration,  those  politicians  who  were 
peculiarly  zealous  for  liberty  assisted  to  reestablish  mon- 
archy: at  the  Revolution  those  politicians  who  were  pecu- 
liarly zealous  for  monarchy  assisted  to  vindicate  liberty. 
The  Cavalier  would,  at  the  former  conjuncture,  have  been 
able  to  effect  nothing  without  the  help  of  Puritans  who 
had  fought  for  the  Covenant;  nor  would  the  Whig,  at  the 
latter  conjuncture,  have  offered  a  successful  resistance  to 
arbitrary  power,  had  he  not  been  backed  by  men  who  had 
a  very  short  time  before  condemned  resistance  to  arbitrary 
power  as  a  deadly  sin.  Conspicuous  among  those  by  whom, 
in  1660,  the  royal  family  was  brought  back,  were  Hollis, 
who  had,  in  the  days  of  the  tyrrany  of  Charles  the  First, 
held  down  the  Speaker  in  the  chair  by  main  force,  while 
Black  Rod  knocked  for  admission  in  vain;  Ingoldsby,  whose 
name  was  subscribed  »to  the  memorable  death  warrant; 
and  Prynne,  whose  ears  Laud  had  cut  off,  and  who,  in  re- 
turn, had  borne  the  chief  part  in  cutting  off  Laud's  head. 
Among  the  seven  who,  in  1688,  signed  the  invitation  to 
William,  were  Compton,  who  had  long  enforced  the  duty 
of  obeying  Nero;  Danby,  who  had  been  impeached  for  en- 
deavoring to  establish  military  despotism;  and  Lumley, 
whose  blood-hounds  had  tracked  Monmouth  to  that  last 
sad  hiding-place  among  the  fern.  Both  in  1660  and  in  1688, 
while  the  fate  of  the  nation  still  hung  in  the  balance,  for- 
giveness was  exchanged  between  the  hostile  factions.  On 
both  occasions  the  reconciliation,  which  had  seemed  to  be 
cordial  in  the  hour  of  danger,  proved  false  and  hollow  in 
the  hour  of  triumph.  As  soon  as  Charles  the  Second  was 
at  Whitehall,  the  Cavalier  forgot  the  good  service  recently 
done  by  the  Presbyterians,  and  remembered  only  their  old 
offences.  As  soon  as  William  was  King,  too  many  of  the 
Whigs  began  to  demand  vengeance  for  all  that  they  bad, 
in  the  days  of  the  Rye  House  Plot,  suffered  at  the  hands  of 
the  Tories.  On  both  occasions  the  Sovereign  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  save  the  vanquished  party  from  the  fury  of  his 
triumphant  supporters;  and  on  both  occasions  those  whom 
he  had  disappointed  of  their  revenge  murmured  bitterly 
against  the  government  which  had  been  so  weak  and  un^ 
grateful     to  protect  its  foes  against  its  friends, 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


quitted  himself  well  in  the  debate.  Montague  spoke  with 
even  more  than  his  wonted  ability  and  energy,  but  in  vain.  So 
far  was  he  from  being  able  to  rally  round  him  such  a  majority 
as  that  which  had  supported  him  in  the  preceding  Parliament, 
that  he  could  not  count  on  the  support  even  of  the  placemen 
who  sate  at  the  same  executive  board  with  him.  Thomas  Pel- 
ham,  who  had,  only  a  few  months  before,  been  made  a  Lord  of 
the  Treasury,  tried  to  answer  him.  I  own,"  said  Pelham, 
that  last  year  I  thought  a  large  land  force  necessary  :  this 
year  I  think  such  a  force  unnecessary  ;  but  I  deny  that  I  have 
been  guilty  of  any  inconsistency.  Last  year  the  great  question 
of  the  Spanish  succession  was  unsettled,  and  there  was  serious 
danger  of  a  general  war.  That  question  has  now  been  settled 
in  the  best  possible  way  ;  and  we  may  look  forward  to  many 
years  of  peace."  AWhig  of  still  greater  note  and  authority, 
the  Marquess  of  Hartington,  separated  himself  on  this  occasion 
from  the  Junto.  The  current  was  irresistible.  At  last  the 
voices  of  those  who  tried  to  speak  for  the  Instruction  were 
drowned  by  clamor.  When  the  question  was  put,  there  was  a 
great  shout  of  No,  and  the  minority  submitted.  To  divide 
would  have  been  merely  to  have  exposed  their  weakness. 

By  this  time  it  became  clear  that  the  relations  between  the 
executive  government  and  the  Parliament  were  again  w^hatthey 
had  been  before  the  year  1695,  The  history  of  our  polity  at 
this  time  is  closely  connected  with  the  history  of  one  man. 
Hitherto  Mantague's  career  had  been  more  splendidly  and  unin- 
terruptedly successful  than  that  of  any  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  since  the  House  of  Commons  had  begun  to  exist. 
And  now  fortune  had  turned.  By  the  Tories  he  had  long  been 
hated  as  a  Whig ;  and  the  rapidity  of  his  rise,  the  brilliancy  of 
his  fame,  and  the  unvarying  good  luck  which  seemed  to  attend 
Mm,  had  made  many  Whigs  his  enemies.  He  was  absurdly 
compared  to  the  upstart  favorites  of  a  former  age,  Carr  and 
Villiers,  men  whom  he  resembled  in  nothing  but  in  the  speed 
with  which  he  had  mounted  from  a  humble  to  a  lofty  position. 
They  had,  without  rendering  any  service  to  the  State,  without 
showing  any  capacity  for  the  conduct  of  great  affairs,  been 
elevated  to  the  highest  dignities,  in  spite  of  the  murmurs  of  the 
whole  nation,  by  the  mere  partiality  of  the  Sovereign.  Mon- 
tague owed  everything  to  his  own  merit  and  to  the  public  opin- 
ion of  his  merit.  With  his  master  he  appears  to  have  had 
very  little  intercourse,  and  none  that  was  not  official.  He  was 
in  truth  a  living  monument  of-what  the  Revolution  had  done 
for  the  Country.  The  Revolution  had  found  him  a  young 
Vol.  v.— II 


3M 


KISTORY  OF  ENGLANIX 


Student  in  a  cell  by  the  Cam,  poring  on  the  diagrams  which  illus- 
trated the  newly  discovered  laws  of  centripetal  and  centrifugal 
force,  writin.g  little  copies  of  verse,  and  indulging  visions  of 
parsonages  with  rich  glebes,  and  of  closes  in  old  cathedral 
towns  ;  had  developed  in  him  new  talents ;  had  held  out  to  him 
the  hope  of  prizes  of  a  very  different  sort  from  a  rectory  or  a 
prebend.  His  eloquence  had  gained  for  him  the  ear  of  the  legis* 
lature.  His  skill  in  fiscal  and  commercial  affairs  had  won  for  him 
the  confidence  of  the  City.  During  four  years  he  had  been  the 
undisputed  leader  of  the  majority  of  the  House  of  Commons  ; 
and  every  one  of  those  years  he  had  made  memorable  by  great 
parliamentary  victories,  and  by  great  public  services.  It  should 
seem  that  his  success  ought  to  have  been  gratifying  to  the  na- 
tion, and  especially  to  that  assembly  of  which  he  was  the  chief 
ornament,  of  which  indeed  he  might  be  called  the  creature. 
The  representatives  of  the  people  ought  to  have  been  well 
pleased  to  find  that  their  approbation  could,  in  the  new  order 
of  things,  do  for  the  man  whom  they  delighted  to  honor  all 
that  the  mightiest  of  the  Tudors  could  do  for  Leicester,  or  the 
most  arbitrary  of  the  Stuarts  for  Strafford.  But,  strange  to 
say,  the  Commons  soon  began  to  regard  with  an  evil  eye  that 
greatness  which  was  their  own  work.  The  fault  indeed  was 
partly  Montague's.  With  all  his  ability,  he  had  not  the  wisdom 
to  avert,  by  suavity  and  moderation,  that  curse,  the  inseparable 
concomitant  of  prosperity  and  glory,  which  the  ancients  per- 
sonified under  the  name  of  Nemesis.  His  head,  strong  for  all 
the  purposes  of  debate  and  arithmetical  calculation,  was  weak 
against  the  intoxicating  influence  of  success  and  fame.  He 
became  proud  even  to  insolence.  Old  companions,  who,  a  very 
few  years  before,  had  punned  and  rhymed  with  him  in  garrets, 
had  dined  with  him  at  cheap  ordinaries,  had  sate  with  him  in 
the  pit,  and  had  lent  him  some  silver  to  pay  his  seamstress's 
bill,  hardly  knew  their  friend  Charles  in  the  great  man  who 
could  not  forget  for  one  moment  that  he  was  First  Lord  of  the 
Treasury,  that  he  was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  that  he 
had  been  a  Regent  of  the  kingdom,  that  he  had  founded  the 
Bank  of  England  and  the  new  East  India  Company,  that  he 
had  restored  the  currency,  that  he  had  invented  the  Exchequer 
Bills,  that  he  had  planned  the  General  Mortgage,  and  that  he 
had  been  pronounced,  by  a  solemn  vote  of  the  Commons,  to 
have  deserved  all  the  favors  which  he  had  received  from  the 
Crown.  It  was  said  that  admiration  of  himself  and  contempt 
of  others  were  indicated  by  all  his  gestures  and  written  in 
all  the  lines  of  his  face.    The  very  way  in  which  the  little 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD, 


jackanapes,  as  the  hostile  pamphleteers  loved  to  call  him, 
strutted  through  the  lobby,  making  the  most  of  his  small  figure, 
rising  on  his  toe,  and  perking  up  his  chin,  made  him  enemies. 
Rash  and  arrogant  sayings  were  imputed  to  him,  and  perhaps 
invented  for  him.  He  was  accused  of  boasting  that  there  was 
nothing  that  he  could  not  carry  through  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, that  he  could  turn  the  majority  round  his  finger.  A 
crowd  of  libellers  assailed  him  w^ith  much  more  than  political 
hatred.  Boundless  rapacity  and  corruption  were  laid  to  his 
charge.  He  was  represented  as  selling  all  the  places  in  the 
revenue  department  for  three  years'  purchase.  The  oppro- 
brious nickname  of  Filcher  was  fastened  on  him.  His  luxury,  it 
was  said,  was  not  less  inordinate  than  his  avarice.  There  was 
indeed  an  attempt  made  at  this  time  to  raise  against  the  leading 
Whig  politicians  and  their  allies,  the  great  moneyed  men  of  the 
City,  a  cry  much  resembling  the  cry  which,  seventy  or  eighty 
years  later,  was  raised  against  the  English  Nabobs.  Great 
wealth,  suddenly  acquired,  is  not  often  enjoyed  with  moderation, 
dignity  and  good  taste.  It  is,  therefore,  not  impossible  that 
there  may  have  been  some  small  foundation  for  the  extravagant 
stories  with  which  malecontent  pamphleteers  amused  the  leisure 
of  malecontent  squires.  In  such  stories  Montague  played  a 
conspicuous  part.  He  contrived,  it  was  said,  to  be  at  once  as 
rich  as  Croesus  and  as  riotous  as  Mark  Antony.  His  stud  and 
his  cellar  were  beyond  all  price.  His  very  lacqueys  turned  up 
their  noses  at  claret.  He  and  his  confederates  were  described 
as  spending  the  immense  sums  of  which  they  had  plundered  the 
public  in  banquets  of  four  courses,  such  as  Lucullus  might  have 
eaten  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo.  A  supper  for  twelve  Whigs,  en- 
riched by  jobs,  grants,  bribes,  lucky  purchases  and  lucky  sales 
of  stock,  was  cheap  at  eighty  pounds.  At  the  end  of  every 
course  all  the  fine  linen  on  the  table  was  changed.  Those  who 
saw  the  pyramids  of  choice  wild  fowl  imagined  that  the  enter- 
tainment had  been  prepared  for  fifty  epicures  at  the  least. 
Only  six  birds'  nests  from  the  Nicobar  islands  were  to  be  had 
in  London  :  and  all  the  six,  bought  at  an  enormous  price,  were 
smoking  in  soup  on  the  board.  These  fables  were  destitute 
alike  of  probability  and  of  evidence.  But  Grub  Street  could 
devise  no  fable  injurious  to  Montague  which  was  not  certain  to 
find  credence  in  more  than  half  the  manor  houses  and  vicarages 
of  England. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  a  man  who  loved  literature  pas- 
sionately, and  rewarded  literary  merit  munificently,  should  have 
been  more  savagely  reviled  both^in  prose  and  verse  than  almost 


3i6 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


any  other  politician  in  our  history.  But  there  is  really  no 
cause  for  wonder.  A  powerful,  liberal  and  discerning  protector 
of  genius  is  very  likely  to  be  mentioned  with  honor  long  after 
his  death,  but  is  very  likely  also  to  be  most  brutally  libelled 
during  his  life.  In  every  age  there  will  be  twenty  bad  writers 
for  one  good  one ;  and  every  bad  writer  will  think  himself  a 
good  one.  A  ruler  who  neglects  all  men  of  letters  alike  does 
not  wound  the  self-love  of  any  man  of  letters.  But  a  ruler  who 
shows  favor  to  the  few  men  of  letters  who  deserve  it  inflicts 
on  the  many  the  miseries  of  disappointed  hope,  of  affronted 
pride,  of  jealousy  cruel  as  the  grave.  All  the  rage  of  a  multi- 
tude of  authors,  irritated  at  once  by  the  sting  of  want  and  by 
the  sting  of  vanity,  is  directed  against  the  unfortunate  patron. 
It  is  true  that  the  thanks  and  eulogies  of  those  whom  he  has 
befriended  will  be  remembered  when  the  invectives  of  those 
whom  he  has  neglected  are  forgotten.  But  in  his  own  time  the 
obloquy  will  probably  make  as  much  noise  and  find  as  much 
credit  as  the  panegyric.  The  name  of  Maecenas  has  been  made  * 
immortal  by  Horace  and  Virgil,  and  is  popularly  used  to  desig- 
nate an  accomplished  statesman,  who  lives  in  close  intimacy 
with  the  greatest  poets  and  wits  of  his  time,  and  heaps  benefits 
on  them  with  the  most  delicate  generosity.  But  it  may  well 
be  suspected  that,  if  the  verses  of  Alpinus  and  Fannius,  of  Ba- 
vius  and  Maevius,  had  come  down  to  us,  we  might  see  Maecenas 
represented  as  the  most  niggardly  and  tasteless  of  human  beings, 
nay,  as  a  man  who,  on  system,  neglected  and  persecuted  all  in- 
tellectual superiority.  It  is  certain  that  Montague  was  thus 
represented  by  contemporary  scribblers.  They  told  the  world 
in  essays,  in  letters,  in  dialogues,  in  ballads,  that  he  would  do 
nothing  for  anybody  without  being  paid  either  in  money  or  in 
some  vile  services  ;  that  he  not  only  never  rewarded  merit,  but 
hated  it  whenever  he  saw  it ;  that  he  practised  the  meanest 
arts  for  the  purpose  of  depressing  it ;  that  those  whom  he  pro- 
tected and  enriched  were  not  men  of  ability  and  virtue,  but 
wretches  distinguished  only  by  their  sycophancy  and  their  low 
debaucheries.  And  this  was  said  of  a  man  who  made  the  for- 
tune of  Joseph  Addison,  and  of  Isaac  Newton. 

Nothing  had  done  more  to  diminish  the  influence  of  Mon- 
tague in  the  House  of  Commons  than  a  step  which  he  had 
taken  a  few  weeks  before  the  meeting  of  the  Parliament.  It 
would  seem  that  the  result  of  the  general  election  had  made 
him  uneasy,  and  that  he  had  looked  anxiously  round  him  for 
some  harbor  in  which  he  might  take  refuge  from  the  storms 
which  seemed  to  be  gathering.    While  his  thoughts  were  thus 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD, 


employed,  he  learned  that  the  Auditorship  of  the  Exchequer 
had  suddenly  become  vacant.  The  Auditorship  was  held  for 
life.  The  duties  were  formal  and  easy  ;  the  gains  were  uncer- 
tain :  for  they  rose  and  fell  with  the  public  expenditure  :  but 
they  could  hardly,  in  time  of  peace,  and  under  the  most  eco- 
nomical administration,  be  less  than  four  thousand  pounds  a 
year,  and  were  likely,  in  time  of  war,  to  be  more  than  double  of 
that  sum.  Montague  marked  this  great  office  for  his  own.  He 
could  not  indeed  take  it,  while  he  continued  to  be  in  charge  of 
the  public  purse.  For  it  would  have  been  indecent,  and  per- 
haps illegal,  that  he  should  audit  his  own  accounts.  He,  there- 
fore, selected  his  brother  Christopher,  whom  he  had  lately  made 
a  Commissioner  of  the  Excise,  to  keep  the  place  for  him. 
There  was,  as  may  easily  be  supposed,  no  want  of  powerful 
and  noble  competitors  for  such  a  prize.  Leeds  had,  more  than 
tw^enty  years  before,  obtained  from  Charles  the  Second  a  pat- 
ent granting  the  reversion  to  Caermarthen.  Godolphin,  it  was 
said,  pleaded  a  promise  made  by  William.  But  Montague 
maintained,  and  was,  it  seems,  right  in  maintaining,  that  both 
the  patent  of  Charles  and  the  promise  of  William  had  been 
given  under  a  mistake,  and  that  the  right  of  appointing  the  Au- 
ditor belonged,  not  to  the  Crown,  but  to  the  Board  of  Treas- 
ury. He  carried  his  point  with  characteristic  audacity  and  ce- 
lerity. The  news  of  the  vacancy  reached  London  on  a  Sunday. 
On  the  Tuesday  the  new  Auditor  was  sworn  in.  The  ministers 
were  amazed.  Even  the  Chancellor,  with  whom  Montague 
was  on  terms  of  intimate  friendship,  had  not  been  consulted. 
Godolphin  devoured  his  ill  temper.  Caermarthen  ordered  out 
his  wonderful  yacht,  and  hastened  to  complain  to  the  King,  who 
was  then  at  Loo.  But  what  had  been  done  could  not  be  un- 
done. 

This  bold  stroke  placed  Montague's  fortune,  in  the  lower 
sense  of  the  word,  out  of  hazard,  but  increased  the  animosity  of 
his  enemies  and  cooled  the  zeal  of  his  adherents.  In  a  letter 
written  by  one  of  his  colleagues.  Secretary  Vernon,  on  the  day 
after  the  appointment,  the  Auditorship  is  described  as  at  once 
a  safe  and  lucrative  place.  But  I  thought,"  Vernon  proceeds, 
Mr.  Montague  was  too  aspiring  to  stoop  to  anything  below 
the  height  he  was  in,  and  that  he  least  considered  profit."  This 
feeling  was  no  doubt  shared  by  many  of  the  friends  of  the  min- 
istry. It  was  plain  that  Montague  was  preparing  a  retreat  for 
himself.  This  flinching  of  the  captain,  just  on  the  eve  of  a 
perilous  campaign,  naturally  disheartened  the  vhole  army.  It 
deserves  to  be  remarked  that,  more  than  eighty  years  later,  aa- 


3l8  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAKn 

Other  great  parliamentary  leader  was  placed  in  a  very  similar 
situation.  The  younger  William  Pitt  held  in  1784  the  same 
offices  which  Montague  had  held  in  1698.  Pitt  was  pressed  in 
1784  by  political  difficulties  not  less  than  those  with  which  Mon 
tague  had  contended  in  1698.  Pitt  was  also  in  1784  a  much 
poorer  man  than  Montague  in  1698.  Pitt,  in  1784,  like  Mon- 
tague in  1698,  had  at  his  own  absolute  disposal  a  lucrative  sin- 
ecure place  in  the  Exchequer.  Pitt  gave  away  the  office  which 
would  have  made  him  an  opulent  man,  and  gave  it  away  in 
such  a  manner  as  at  once  to  reward  unfortunate  merit,  and  to 
relieve  the  country  from  a  burden.  For  this  disinterestedness 
he  was  repaid  by  the  enthusiastic  applause  of  his  followers,  by 
the  enforced  respect  of  his  opponents,  and  by  the  confidence 
which,  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  a  chequered  and  at  length 
disastrous  career,  the  great  body  of  Englishmen  reposed  in  his 
public  spirit  and  in  his  personal  integrity.  In  the  intellectual 
qualities  of  a  statesman  Montague  was  probably  not  inferior  to 
Pitt.  But  the  magnanimity,  the  dauntless  courage,  the  con- 
tempt for  riches  and  for  baubles,  to  which,  more  than  to  any 
intellectual  quality,  Pitt  owed  his  long  ascendancy,  were  waiting 
to  Montague. 

The  faults  of  Montague  were  great :  but  his  punishment 
was  cruel.  It  was  indeed  a  punishment  which  must  have  been 
more  bitter  than  the  bitterness  of  death  to  a  man  whose  vanity 
was  exquisitely  sensitive,  and  who  had  been  spoiled  by  early 
and  rapid  successes  and  by  constant  prosperity.  Before  the 
new  Parliament  had  been  a  month  sitting  it  was  plain  that  his 
empire  was  at  an  end.  He  spoke  with  the  old  eloquence  ;  but 
his  speeches  no  longer  called  forth  the  old  response.  Whatever 
he  proposed  was  maliciously  scrutinized.  The  success*  of  his 
budget  of  the  preceding  year  had  surpassed  all  expectation. 
The  two  millions  which  he  had  undertaken  to  find  had  been 
raised  with  a  rapidity  which  seemed  magical.  Yet  for  bringing 
the  riches  of  the  City,  in  an  unprecedented  flood,  to  overflow 
the  Exchequer,  he  was  reviled  as  if  his  scheme  had  failed  more 
ludicrously  than  the  Tory  Land  Bank.  Emboldened  by  his 
unpopularity,  the  Old  East  India  Company  presented  a  petition 
praying  that  the  General  Society  Act,  which  his  influence  and 
eloquence  had  induced  the  late  Parliament  to  pass,  might  be 
extensively  modified.  Howe  took  the  matter  up.  It  was  moved 
that  leave  should  be  given  to  bring  in  a  bill  according  to  the 
prayer  of  the  petition  ;  the  motion  was  carried  by  a  hundred 
and  seventy-five  votes  to  a  hundred  and  forty  eight ;  and  the 
whole  question  of, the  trade  withjhe  Eastern  seas  was  reoDened, 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


The  bill  was  brought  in,  but  was,  with  great  difficulty  and  by  a 
very  small  majority,  thrown  out  on  the  second  reading.*  On 
other  financial  questions  Montague,  so  lately  the  oracle  of  the 
Committee  of  Supply,  was  now  heard  with  malevolent  distrust. 
If  his  enemies  were  unable  to  detect  any  flaw  in  his  reasonings 
and  calculations,  they  could  at  least  whisper  that  Mr.  Montague 
was  very  cunning,  that  it  was  not  easy  to  track  him,  but  that 
it  might  be  taken  for  granted  that  for  whatever  he  did  he  had 
some  sinister  motive,  and  that  the  safest  course  was  to  negative 
whatever  he  proposed.  Though  that  House  of  Commons  was 
economical  even  to  a  vice,  the  majority  preferred  paying  high 
interest  to  paying  low  interest,  solely  because  the  plan  raising 
money  at  low  interest  had  been  framed  by  him.  In  a  despatch 
from  the  Dutch  Embassy  the  States  General  were  informed 
that  many  of  the  votes  of  that  session  which  had  caused  astom 
ishment  out  of  doors  were  to  be  ascribed  to  nothing  but  to  the 
bitter  envy  which  the  ability  and  fame  of  Montague  had  excited. 
It  was  not  without  a  hard  struggle  and  a  sharp  pang  that  the 
first  Englishman  who  has  held  that  high  position  which  has 
now  been  long  called  the  Leadership  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons submitted  to  be  deposed.  But  he  was  set  upon  with  cow- 
ardly malignity  by  whole  rows  of  small  men  none  of  whom 
singly  w^ould  have  dared  to  look  him  in  the  face.  A  contem- 
porary pamphleteer  compared  him  to  an  owl  in  the  sunshine 
pursued  and  pecked  to  death  by  flights  of  tiny  birds.  On  one 
occasion  he  was  irritated  into  uttering  an  oath.  Then  there 
was  a  cry  of  order  ;  and  he  was  threatened  with  the  Sergeant 
and  the  Tower.  On  another  occasion  he  was  moved  even  to 
shedding  tears  of  rage  and  vexation,  tears  which  only  moved 
the  mockery  of  his  low-minded  and  bad-hearted  foes. 

If  a  minister  were  now  to  find  himself  thus  situated  in  a 
House  of  Commons  which  had  just  been  elected,  and  from 
which  it  would,  therefore,  be  idle  to  appeal  to  the  electors,  he 
would  instantly  resign  his  office,  and  his  adversaries  would  take 
his  place.  The  change  would  be  most  advantageous  to  the  pub- 
lic, even  if  we  suppose  his  successor  to  be  both  less  virtuous 
aud  less  able  than  himself.  For  it  is  much  better  for  the  coun- 
try to  have  a  bad  ministry,  than  to  have  no  ministry  at  all ;  and 
there  would  be  no  ministry  at  all  if  the  executive  departm.ents 

*  Commons*  Journals,  February  24,  27  ;  March  9,  1698-9.  In  the  Vernon  Correspon- 
dence a  letter  about  the  East  India  question  which  belongs  to  the  year  ^^^^  is  put  under  the 

date  of  Feb.  10,  1698-9.    The  truth  is  that  this  most  valuable  correspondence  cannot  be 
used  to  good  purpose  by  any  wriier  who  does  not  do  for  himself  all  that  the  editor  ought 
have  don«. 


320 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


were  filled  by  men  whom  the  representatives  of  the  people  took 
every  opportunity  of  thwarting  and  insulting.  That  an  unprin- 
cipled man  should  be  followed  by  a  majority  of  the  House  of 
Commons  is  no  doubt  an  evil.  But,  when  this  is  the  case,  he 
will  nowhere  be  so  harmless  as  at  the  head  of  affairs.  As  he 
already  possesses  the  power  to  do  boundless  mischief,  it  is  de- 
sirable to  give  him  a  strong  motive  to  abstain  from  doing  mis- 
chief ;  and  such  a  motive  he  has  from  the  moment  that  he  is 
entrusted  with  the  administration.  Office  of  itself  does  much 
to  equalize  politicians.  It  by  no  means  brings  all  characters  to 
a  level :  but  it  does  bring  high  characters  down  and  low  charac- 
ters up  towards  a  common  standard.  In  power  the  nK)st  pa- 
triotic and  most  enlightened  statesman  finds  that  he  must  dis- 
appoint the  expectations  of  his  admirers  :  that,  if  he  effects  any 
good,  he  must  effect  it  by  compromise  ;  that  he  must  relinquish 
many  favorite  schemes  ;  that  he  must  bear  with  many  abuses. 
On  the  other  hand,  power  turns  the  very  vices  of  the  most 
worthless  adventurer,  his  selfish  ambition,  his  sordid  cupidity, 
his  vanity,  his  cowardice,  into  a  sort  of  public  spirit.  The  most 
greedy  and  cruel  wrecker  that  ever  put  up  false  lights  to  lure 
mariners  to  their  destruction  will  do  his  best  to  preserve  a  ship 
from  going  to  pieces  on  the  rocks,  if  he  is  taken  on  board  of 
her  and  made  pilot :  and  so  the  most  profligate  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer  must  wish  that  trade  may  flourish,  that  the  rev- 
enue may  come  in  well,  and  that  he  may  be  able  to  take  taxes 
off  instead  of  putting  them  on.  The  most  profligate  First  Lord 
of  the  Admiralty  must  wish  to  receive  news  of  a  victory  like 
that  of  the  Nile  rather  than  of  a  mutiny  like  that  at  the  Nore. 
There  is,  therefore,  a  limit  to  the  evil  which  is  to  be  appre- 
hended from  the  worst  ministry  that  is  likely  ever  to  exist  in 
England.  But  to  the  evil  of  having  no  ministry,  to  the  evil  of 
having  a  House  of  Commons  permanently  at  war  with  the  ex- 
ecutive government,  there  is  absolutely  no  limit.  This  was 
signally  proved  in  1699  and  1700.  Had  the  statesmen  of  the 
Junto,  as  soon  as  they  had  ascertained  the  temper  of  the  new 
Parliament,  acted  as  statesmen  similarly  situated  would  now 
act,  great  calamities  would  have  been  averted.  The  chiefs  ot 
the  opposition  must  then  have  been  called  upon  to  form  a  gov- 
ernment. With  the  power  of  the  late  ministry  the  responsibil- 
ity of  the  late  ministry  would  have  been  transferred  to  them  ; 
and  that  responsibility  would  at  once  have  sobered  them.  The 
orator  whose  eloquence  had  been  the  delight  of  the  Country 
party  would  have  had  to  exert  his  ingenuity  on  a  new  set  of 
topics.    There  would  have  been  an  end  of  his  invectives  against 


William  the  thuld. 


courtiers  and  placemen,  of  piteous  moanings  about  the  intoler- 
able weight  of  the  land  tax,  of  his  boasts  that  the  militia  of  Kent 
and  Sussex,  without  the  help  of  a  single  regular  soldier,  would 
turn  the  conquerors  of  Landen  to  the  right  about.  He  would 
himself  have  been  a  courtier :  he  would  himself  have  been  a 
placeman:  he  would  have  known  that  he  should  be  held  ac 
countable  for  all  the  misery  which  a  national  bankruptcy  or  a 
French  invasion  might  produce  :  and,  instead  of  laboring  to 
get  up  a  clamor  for  the  reduction  of  imposts,  and  the  disband- 
ing of  regiments,  he  would  have  employed  all  his  talents  and 
influence  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  from  Parliament  the 
means  of  supporting  public  credit,  and  of  putting  the  country 
in  a  good  posture  of  defence.  Meanwhile  the  statesmen  who 
were  out  might  have  watched  the  pew  men,  might  have  checked 
them  when  they  were  wrong,  might  have  come  to  their  help 
when,  by  doing  right,  they  had  raised  a  mutiny  in  their  own 
absurd  and  perverse  faction.  In  this  way  Montague  and  Somers 
might,  in  opposition,  have  been  really  far  more  powerful  than 
they  could  be  while  they  filled  the  highest  posts  in  the  execu- 
tive government  and  were  outvoted  every  day  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  Their  /etirement  would  have  mitigated  envy :  their 
abilities  would  have  been  missed  and  regretted  ;  their  unpopu- 
larity would  have  passed  to  their  successors,  who  would  have 
grievously  disappointed  vulgar  expectation,  and  would  have 
been  under  the  necessity  of  eating  their  own  words  in  every 
debate.  The  league  between  the  Tories  and  the  discontented 
Whigs  would  have  been  dissolved  ;  and  it  is  probable  that,  in  a 
session  or  two,  the  public  voice  would  have  loudly  demanded 
the  recall  of  the  best  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal,  and  of  the 
best  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  the  oldest  man  living  could 
remember. 

But  these  lessons,  the  fruits  of  the  experience  of  five  gen* 
erations,  had  never  been  taught  to  the  politicians  of  the  seven- 
teenth  century.  Notions*  imbibed  before  the  Revolution  still 
kept  possession  of  the  public  mind.  Not  even  Somers,  the  fore- 
most man  of  his  age,  in  civil  wisdom,  thought  it  strange  that 
one  party  should  be  in  possession  of  the  executive  administra- 
tion while  the  other  predominated  in  the  legislature.  Thus,  at 
the  beginning  of  1699,  there  ceased  to  be  a  ministry;  and  years 
elapsed  before  the  servants  of  the  Crown  and  the  representatives 
of  the  people  were  again  joined  in  an  union  as  harmonious  as 
that  which  had  existed  from  the  general  election  of  1695  to  the 
general  election  of  1698.  The  anarchy  lasted,  with  some  short 
intervals  of  composedness,  till  the  general  election  of  1705. 


No  portion  of  our  parliamentary  histpry  is  less  pleasing  or  more 
instructive.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  House  of  Commons  be- 
came altogether  ungovernable,  abused  its  gigantic  power  with 
unjust  and  insolent  caprice,  browbeat  King  and  Lords,  the 
Courts  of  Common  Law  and  the  Constituent  bodies,  violated 
rights  guaranteed  by  the  Great  Charter,  and  at  length  made 
itself  so  odious  that  the  people  were  glad  to  take  shelter,  under 
the  protection  of  the  throne  a  ad  of  the  hereditary  aristocracy, 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  assembly  which  had  been  chosen  by 
themselves. 

The  evil  which  brought  so  much  discredit  on  representative 
institutions  was  of  gradual  though  of  rapid  growth,  and  did  not, 
in  the  first  session  of  the  Parliament  of  1698,  take  the  most 
alarming  form.  The  lead  o£.  the  House  Commons  had,  how- 
ever, entirely  passed  away  from  Montague,  who  was  still  the 
first  minister  of  finance,  to  the  chiefs  of  the  turbulent  and  dis- 
cordant opposition.  Among  those  chiefs  the  most  powerful  was 
Harley,  who,  while  almost  constantly  acting  with  the  Tories 
and  High  Churchmen,  continued  to  use,  on  occasions  cunningly 
selected,  the  political  and  religious  phraseology  which  he  had 
learned  in  his  youth  among  the  Roundheads.  He  thus,  while 
high  in  the  esteem  of  the  country  gentlemen  and  even  of  his 
hereditary  enemies,  the  country  parsons,  retained  a  portion  of 
the  favor  with  which  he  and  his  ancestors  had  long  been  re- 
garded by  Whigs  and  Nonconformists.  He  was,  therefore,  pe- 
culiarly well  qualified  to  act  as  mediator  between  the  two  sec- 
tions of  the  majority. 

The  bill  for  the  disbanding  of  the  army  passed  with  little 
opposition  through  the  House  till  it  reached  the  last  stage. 
Then,  at  length,  a  stand  was  made,  but  in  vain.  Vernon  wrote 
the  next  day  to  Shrewsbury  that  the  ministers  had  had  a  division 
which  they  need  not  be  ashamed  of  :  for  that  they  had  mustered 
a  hundred  and  fifty-four  against  two  hundred  and  twenty-one. 
Such  a  division  would  not  be  considered  as  matter  of  boast  by 
a  Secretary  of  State  in  our  time. 

The  bill  went  up  to  the  House  of  Lords,  where  it  was  re- 
garded with  no  great  favor.  But  this  was  not  one  of  those  oc- 
casions on  which  the  House  of  Lords  can  act  effectually  as  a 
check  on  the  popular  branch  of  the  legislature.  No  good  would 
have  been  done  by  rejecting  the  bill  for  disbanding  the  troops, 
unless  the  King  could  have  been  furnished  with  the  means  of 
maintaining  them  ;^  and  with  such  means  he  could  be  furnished 
only  by  the  House' of  Commons.  Somers,  in  a  speech  of  which 
both  the  eloquence  and  the  wisdom  were  greatly  admired,  placed 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


the  question  in  the  true  light.  He  set  forth  strongly  the  dan- 
gers to  which  the  jealousy  and  parsimony  of  the  representatives 
of  the  people  exposed  the  country.  But  anything,  he  said,  was 
better  than  that  the  King  and  the  Peers  should  engage,  without 
hope  of  success,  in  an  acrimonious  conflict  with  the  Commons. 
Tankerville  spoke  with  his  usual  ability  on  the  same  side.  Not- 
tingham and  the  other  Tories  remained  silent ;  and  the  bill 
passed  without  a  division. 

By  this  time  the  King's.strong  understanding  had  mastered, 
as  it  seldom  failed,  after  a  struggle,  to  master,  his  rebellious 
temper.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  fulfil  his  great  mission 
to  the  end.  It  was  with  no  common  pain  that  he  admitted  it 
to  be  necessary  for  him  to  give  his  assent  to  the  disbanding  bill. 
But  in  this  case  it  would  have  been  worse  than  useless  to  resort 
to  his  veto.  For,  if  the  bill  had  been  rejected,  the  army  would 
have  been  dissolved,  and  he  would  have  been  left  without  even 
the  seven  thousand  men  whom  the  Commons  were  willing  to  al- 
low him.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  comply  with  the  wish 
of  his  people,  and  at  the  same  time  to  give  them  a  weighty  and 
serious  but  friendly  admonition.  Never  had  he  succeeded 
better  in  suppressing  the  outward  signs  of  his  emotions  than  on 
the  day  on  which  he  carried  this  determination  into  effect.  The 
public  mind  was  much  excited.  The  crowds  in  the  parks  and 
streets  were  immense.  The  Jacobites  came  in  troops,  hoping 
to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  reading  shame  and  rage  on  the  face  of 
him  whom  they  most  hated  and  dreaded.  The  hope  was  disap- 
pointed. The  Prussian  Minister,  a  discerning  observer,  free 
from  the  passions  which  distracted  English  society,  accompanied 
the  royal  procession  from  St.  James's  Palace  to  Westminster 
Hall.  He  well  knew  how  bitterly  William  had  been  mortified, 
and  was  astonished  to  see  him  present  himself  to  the  public 
gaze  with  a  serene  and  cheerful  aspect. 

The  speech  delivered  from  the  throne  was  much  admired  ; 
and  the  correspondent  of  the  States  General  acknowledged  that 
he  despaired  of  exhibiting  in  a  French  translation  the  graces 
of  style  which  distinguished  the  original.  Indeed  that  weighty, 
simple  and  dignified  eloquence  which  becomes  the  lips  of  a  sov- 
ereign was  seldom  wanting  in  any  composition  of  which  the  plan 
was  furnished  by  William  and  the  language  by  Somers.  The  King 
informed  the  Lords  and  Commons  that  he  had  come  down  to 
pass  their  bill  as  soon  as  it  was  ready  for  him.  He  could  not 
indeed  but  think  that  they  had  carried  the  reduction  of  the  army 
to  a  dangerous  extent.  He  could  not  but  feel  that  they  had 
treated  him  unkindly  in  requiring  him  to  part  with  those  guards 


324  HISTORY  OF  ENGLANR. 

who  had  come  over  with  him  to  deliver  England,  and  who  had 
since  been  near  him  on  every  field  of  battle.  But  it  was  his  fixed 
opinion  that  nothing  could  be  so  pernicious  to  the  State  as  that 
he  should  be  regarded  by  his  people  with  distrust,  distrust  of 
which  he  had  not  expected  to  be  the  object  after  what  he  had 
endeavored,  ventured,  and  acted,  to  restore  and  to  secure  their 
liberties.  He  had  now,  he  said,  told  the  Houses  plainly  the 
reason,  the  only  reason,  which  had  induced  him  to  pass  their 
bill :  and  it  was  his  duty  to  tell  them  plainly,  in  discharge  of 
his  high  trust,  and  in  order  that  none  might  hold  him  account- 
able for  the  evils  which  he  had  vainly  endeavored  to  avert, 
that,  in  his  judgment,  the  nation  was  left  too  much  exposed. 

When  the  Commons  returned  to  their  chamber,  and  the 
King's  speech  had  been  read  from  the  chair,  Howe  attempted 
to  raise  a  storm.  A  gross  insult  had  been  offered  to  the  House. 
The  King  ought  to  be  asked  who  had  put  such  words  into  his 
mouth.  But  the  spiteful  agitator  found  no  support.  The  ma- 
jority were  so  much  pleased  with  the  King  for  promptly  pass- 
ing the  bill  that  they  were  not  disposed  to  quarrel  with  him  for 
frankly  declaring  that  he  disliked  it.  It  was  resolved  without 
a  division  that  an  address  should  be  presented,  thanking  him  for 
his  gracious  speech  and  for  his  ready  compliance  with  the  wishes 
of  his  people,  and  assuring  him  that  his  grateful  Commons 
would  never  forget  the  great  things  which  he  had  done  for  the 
country,  would  never  give  him  cause  to  think  them  unkind  or 
undutiful,  and  would,  on  all  occasions,  stand  by  him  against  all 
enemies. 

Just  at  this  juncture  tidings  arrived  which  might  well  raise 
misgivings  in  the  minds  of  those  who  had  voted  for  reducing 
the  national  means  of  defence.  The  Electoral  Prince  of  Bava- 
ria was  no  more.  The  Gazette  which  announced  that  the  Dis- 
banding Bill  had  received  the  royal  assent  informed  the  public 
that  he  was  dangerously  ill  at  Brussels.  The  next  Gazette  con- 
tained the  news  of  his  death.  Only  a  few  weeks  had  clasped 
since  all  who  were  anxious  for  the  peace  of  the  v»^orld  had  learned 
with  joy  that  he  had  been  named  heir  to  the  Spanish  throne. 
That  the  boy  just  entering  upon  life  with  such  hopes  should 
die,  while  the  wretched  Charles,  long  ago  half  dead,  continued 
to  creep  about  between  his  bedroom  and  his  chapel,  was  an 
event  for  which,  notwithstanding  the  proverbial  uncertainty  of 
life,  the  minds  of  men  were  altogether  unprepared.  A  peaceful 
solution  of  the  great  question  now  seemed  impossible.  France 
and  Austria  were  left  confronting  each  other.  Within  a  month 
the  whole  Continent  might  be  in  arms.    Pious  men  saw  in  this 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


Stroke,  so  sudden  and  so  terrible,  the  plain  signs  of  the  divine 
displeasure.  God  had  a  controversy  with  the  nations.  Nine 
years  of  fire,  of  slaughter  and  famine  had  not  been  sufficient  to 
reclaim  a  guilty  world  ;  and  a  second  and  more  severe  chastise- 
ment was  at  hand.  Others  muttered  that  the  event  which  all 
good  men  lamented  was  to  be  ascribed  to  unprincipled  ambition. 
It  would  indeed  have  been  strange  if,  in  that  age,  so  important 
a  death,  happening  at  so  critical  a  moment,  had  not  been  im- 
puted to  poison.  The  father  of  the  deceased  Prince  loudly 
accused  the  Court  of  Vienna  ;  and  the  imputation,  though  not 
supported  by  the  slightest  evidence,  was,  during  some  time,  be- 
lieved by  the  vulgar. 

The  politicians  at  the  Dutch  embassy  imagined  that  now  at 
length  the  Parliament  would  listen  to  reason.  It  seemed  that 
even  the  country  gentlemen  must  begin  to  contemplate  the  prob- 
ability of  an  alarming  crisis.  The  merchants  of  the  Royal  Ex- 
change, much  better  acquainted  than  the  country  gentlemen  with 
foreign  lands,  and  much  more  accustomed  than  the  country 
gentlemen  to  take  large  views,  were  in  great  agitation.  No- 
body could  mistake  the  beat  of  that  wonderful  pulse  which  had 
recently  begun,  and  has  during  five  generations  continued,  to 
indicate  the  variations  of  the  body  politic.  When  Littleton  was 
chosen  speaker,  the  stocks  rose.  When  it  was  resolved  that 
the  army  should  be  reduced  to  seven  thousand  men,  the  stocks 
fell.  When  the  death  of  the  Electoral  Prince  was  known,  they 
fell  still  lower.  The  subscriptions  to  a  new  loan,  which  the 
Commons  had,  from  mere  spite  to  Montague,  determined  to 
raise  on  conditions  of  which  he  disapproved,  came  in  very 
slowly.  The  signs  of  a  reaction  of  feeling  were  discernible 
both  in  and  out  of  Parliament.  Many  men  were  alarmists  by 
constitution.  Trenchard  and  Howe  had  frightened  most  men 
by  writing  and  talking  about  the  danger  to  which  liberty  and 
property  would  be  exposed  if  the  government  were  allowed  to 
keep  a  large  body  of  Janissaries  in  pay.  That  danger  had 
ceased  to  exist ;  and  those  people  who  must  always  be  afraid 
of  something,  as  they  could  no  longer  be  afraid  of  a  standing 
army,  began  to  be  afraid  of  the  French  King.  There  was  a 
turn  in  the  tide  of  public  opinion  ;  and  no  part  of  statesmanship 
is  more  important  than  the  art  of  taking  the  tide  of  public  opin- 
ion at  the  turn.  On  more  than  one  occasion  William  showed 
himself  a  master  of  that  art.  But,  on  the  present  occasion,  a 
sentiment,  in  itself  amiable  and  respectable,  led  him  to  commit 
the  greatest  mistake  of  his  whole  life.  Had  he  at  this  con- 
juncture again  earnestly  pressed  on  the  Houses  the  importance 


3^6 


HlStX)RY  OP  ENGLAND. 


of  providing  for  the  defence  of  the  kingdom,  and  asked  of  them 
an  additional  number  of  English  troops,  it  is  not  improbable 
that  he  might  have  carried  his  point ;  it  is  certain  that,  if  he  had 

failed,  there  would  have  been  nothing  ignominious  in  his  failure. 
Unhappily,  instead  of  raising  a  great  public  question,  on  which 
he  was  in  the  right,  on  which  he  had  a  good  chance  of  succeed- 
ing, and  on  which  he  might  have  been  defeated  without  any 
loss  of  dignity,  he  chose  to  raise  a  personal  question,  on  which 
he  was  in  the  wrong,  on  which,  right  or  wrong,  he  was  sure  to 
be  beaten,  and  on  which  he  could  not  be  beaten  without  being 
degraded.  Instead  of  pressing  for  more  English  regiments,  he 
exerted  all  his  influence  to  obtain  for  the  Dutch  guards  permis- 
sion to  remain  in  the  island. 

The  first  trial  of  strength  was  in  the  Upper  House.  A  res- 
olution was  moved  there  to  the  effect  that  the  Lords  would 
gladly  concur  in  any  plan  that  could  be  suggested  for  retaining 
the  services  of  the  Dutch  brigade.  The  motion  was  carried  by 
fifty-four  votes  to  thirty-eight.  But  a  protest  was  entered  and 
was  signed  by  all  the  minorit3^  It  is  remarkable  that  Devon- 
shire was,  and  that  Marlborough  was  not,  one  of  the  Dissen- 
tients. Marlborough  had  formerly  maKie  himself  conspicuous 
by  the  keenness  and  pertinacity  with  which  he  had  attacked 
the  Dutch.  But  he  had  now  made  his  peace  with  the  Court, 
and  was  in  the  receipt  of  a  large  salary  from  the  civil  list.  He 
was  in  the  House  on  that  day ;  and,  therefore,  if  he  voted,  must 
have  voted  with  the  majority.  The  Cavendishes  had  generally 
been  strenuous  supporters  of  the  King  and  the  Junto.  But  on 
the  subject  of  the  foreign  troops  Hartington  in  one  House  and 
his  father  in  the  other  were  intractable. 

This  vote  of  the  Lords  caused  much  murmuring  among  the 
Commons.  It  was  said  to  be  most  unparliamentary  to  pass  a 
bill  one  week,  and  the  next  week  to  pass  a  resolution  condemn- 
ing that  bill.  It  was  true  that  the  bill  had  been  passed  before 
the  death  of  the  Electoral  Prince  was  known  in  London.  But 
that  unhappy  event,  though  it  might  be  a  good  reason  for  in- 
creasing the  English  army,  could  be  no  reason  for  departing  from 
the  principle  that  the  English  army  should  consist  of  English- 
men. A  gentleman  who  despised  the  vulgar  clamor  against 
professional  soldiers,  who  held  the  doctrine  of  Somers's  Balanc- 
ing  Letter,  and  who  was  prepared  to  vote  for  twenty  or  even 
thirty  thousand  men,  might  yet  well  ask  why  any  of  those  men 
should  be  foreigners.  Were  our  countrymen  naturally  inferior 
to  men  of  other  races  in  any  of  the  qualities  which,  under  prop- 
er training,  make  excellent  soldiers  ?    That  assuredly  was  no!c 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


the  opinion  of  the  Prince  who  had,  at  the  head  of  Ormond's 
Life  Guards,  driven  the  French  household  troops,  till  then  invin- 
cible, back  over  the  ruins  of  Neerwinden,  and  whose  eagle  eye 
and  applauding  voice  had  followed  Cutts's  grenadiers  up  the 
glacis  of  Namur.  Bitter-spirited  malecontents  muttered  that 
since  there  was  no  honorable  service  which  could  not  be  as  well 
performed  by  the  natives  of  the  realm  as  by  alien  mercenaries, 
it  might  well  be  suspected  that  the  King  wanted  his  alien  mer- 
cenaries for  some  services  not  honorable.  If  it  were  necessary 
to  repel  a  French  invasion  or  to  put  down  an  Irish  insurrec- 
tion, the  Blues  and  the  Buffs  would  stand  by  him  to  death. 
But,  if  his  object  were  to  govern  in  defiance  of  the  votes  of  his 
Parliament  and  of  the  cry  of  his  people,  he  might  well  appre- 
hend that  English  swords  and  muskets  would,  at  the  crisis,  fail 
him,  as  they  had  failed  his  father-in-law,  and  might  well  wish  to 
surround  himself  with  men  who  were  not  of  our  blood,  who  had 
no  reverence  for  our  laws,  and  no  sympathy  with  our  feelings. 
Such  imputations  could  find  credit  with  nobody  superior  in  in- 
telligence to  those  clownish  squires  who  with  difficulty  managed 
to  spell  out  Dyer's  Letter  over  their  ale.  Men  of  sense  and 
temper  admitted  that  William  had  never  shown  any  disposition 
to  violate  the  solemn  compact  which  he  had  made  with  the  na- 
tion, and  that,  even  if  he  were  depraved  enough  to  think  of  de- 
stroying the  constitution  by  military  violence,  he  was  not  im- 
becile enough  to  imagine  that  the  Dutch  brigade,  or  five  such 
brigades,  would  suffice  for  his  purpose.  But  such  men,  while 
they  fully  acquitted  him  of  the  design  attributed  to  him  by  fac- 
tious malignity,  could  not  acquit  him  of  a  partiality  which  it 
was  natural  that  he  should  feel,  but  which  it  would  have  been 
wise  in  him  to  hide,  and  with  which  it  was  impossible  that  his 
subjects  should  sympathize.  He  ought  to  have  known  that 
nothing  is  more  offensive  to  free  and  proud  nations  than  the 
sight  of  foreign  uniforms  and  standards.  Though  not  much 
conversant  with  books,  he  must  have  been  acquainted  with  the 
chief  events  in  the  history  of  his  own  illustrious  House  ;  and  he 
could  hardly  have  been  ignorant  that  his  great  grandfather  had 
commenced  a  long  and  glorious  struggle  against  despotism  by 
exciting  the  States  General  of  Ghent  to  demand  that  all  Spanish 
troops  should  be  withdrawn  from  the  Netherlands.  The  final 
parting  between  the  tyrant  and  the  future  deliverer  was  not  an 
event  to  be  forgotten  by  any  of  the  race  of  Nassau.  "  It  was 
the  States,  Sir,"  said  the  Prince  of  Orange.  Philip  seized  his 
wrist  with  a  convulsive  grasp,  and  exclaimed,  "  Not  the  States, 
fcut  you,  you,  you.'' 


328 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


William,  however,  determined  to  try  whether  a  request  made 
by  himself  in  earnest  and  almost  supplicating  terms  would  in- 
duce his  subjects  to  indulge  his  national  partiality  at  the  ex- 
pense of  their  own.  None  of  his  ministers  could  flatter  him 
with  any  hope  of  success.  But  on  this  subject  he  was  too  much 
excited  to  hear  reason.  He  sent  down  to  the  Commons  a  mes- 
sage, not  merely  signed  by  himself  according  to  the  usual  form, 
but  written  throughout  with  his  own  hand.  He  informed  them 
that  the  necessary  preparations  had  been  made  for  sending.away 
the  guards  who  came  with  him  to  England,  and  that  they 
would  immediately  embark,  unless  the  House  should,  out  of 
consideration  for  him,  be  disposed  to  retain  them,  which  he 
should  take  very  kindly.  When  the  message  had  been  read,  a 
member  proposed  that  a  day  might  be  fixed  for  the  considera- 
tion  of  the  subject.  But  the  chiefs  of  the  majority  would  not 
consent  to  anything  which  might  seem  to  indicate  hesitation,  and 
moved  the  previous  question.  The  ministers  were  in  a  false 
position.  It  was  out  of  their  power  to  answer  Harley  when  he 
sarcastically  declared  that  he  did  not  suspect  them  of  having  ad- 
vised His  Majesty  on  this  occasion.  If,  he  said,  those  gentle- 
men had  thought  it  desirable  that  the  Dutch  brigade  should  re- 
main in  the  kingdom,  they  would  have  done  so  before.  There 
had  been  many  opportunities  of  raising  the  question  in  a  per- 
fectly regular  manner  during  the  progress  of  the  Disbanding 
Bill.  Of  those  opportunities  nobody  had  thought  fit  to  avail 
himself  ;  and  it  was  now  too  late  to  reopen  the  question.  Most 
of  the  other  members  who  spoke  against  taking  the  message 
into  consideration  took  the  same  line,  declined  discussing  points 
which  might  have  been  discussed  when  the  Disbanding  Bill  was 
before  the  House,  and  declared  merely  that  they  could  not  con- 
sent to  anything  so  unparliamentary  as  the  repealing  of  an  Act 
which  had  just  been  passed.  But?  this  way  of  dealing  with  the 
message  was  far  too  mild  and  moderate  to  satisfy  the  implac- 
able malice  of  Howe.  In  his  courtly  days  he  had  vehemently 
called  on  the  King  to  use  the  Dutch  for  the  purpose  of  quelling 
the  insubordination  of  the  English  regiments.  "  None  but  the 
Dutch  troops,"  he  said,  "  are  to  be  trusted."  He  was  now  not 
ashamed  to  draw  a  parallel  between  those  very  Dutch  troops 
and  the  Popish  Kernes  whom  James  had  brought  over  from 
Munster  and  Connaught  to  enslave  our  island.  The  general 
feeling  was  such  that  the  previous  question  was  carried  with- 
out a  division.  A  Committee  was  immediately  appointed  to 
draw  up  an  address  explaining  the  reasons  which  made  it 
impossible  for  the  House  to  comply  with  His  Majesty's  wish. 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRB. 


3^9 


At  the  next  sitting  the  Committee  reported  :  and  on  the  report 
there  was  an  animated  debate.  The  friends  of  the  government 
thought  the  proposed  address  offensive.  The  most  respectable 
members  of  the  majority  felt  that  it  would  be  ungraceful  to 
aggravate  by  harsh  language  the  pain  which  must  be  caused  by 
their  conscientious  opposition  to  the  King's  wishes.  Some 
strong  expressions  were,  therefore,  softened  down ;  some  courtly 
phrases  were  inserted ;  but  the  House  refused  to  omit  one  sen- 
tence which  almost  reproachfully  reminded  the  King  that  in  his 
memorable  Declaration  of  1688  he  had  promised  to  send  back 
all  the  foreign  forces  as  soon  as  he  had  effected  the  deliver- 
ance of  this  country.  The  division  was,  however,  very  close. 
There  were  one  hundred  and  fifty-seven  votes  for  omitting 
this  passage,  and  one  hundred  and  sixt3^-three  for  retaining  it.* 

The  address  was  presented  by  the  whole  House.  William's 
answer  was  as  good  as  it  was  possible  for  him,  in  the  unfortu- 
nate position  in  which  he  had  placed  himself,  to  return.  It 
showed  that  he  was  deeply  hurt;  but  it  was  temperate  and  dig- 
nified. Those  who  saw  him  in  private  knew  that  his  feelings 
had  been  cruelly  lacerated.  His  body  sympathized  with  his 
mind.  His  sleep  was  broken.  His  headaches  tormented  him 
more  than  ever.  From  those  whom  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
considering  as  his  friends,  and  who  had  failed  him  in  the  recent 
struggle,  he  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his  displeasure.  The 
lucrative  see  of  Worcester  was  vacant;  and  some  powerful 
Whigs  of  the  cider  country  wished  to  obtain  it  for  John  Hall, 
Bishop  of  Bristol.  One  of  the  Fpleys,  a  family  zealous  for  the 
Revolution,  but  hostile  to  standing  armies,  spoke  to  the  King 
on  the  subject.  "  I  will  pay  as  much  respect  to  your  wishes," 
said  William,  "  as  you  and  yours  have  paid  to  mine,"  Lloyd  of 
St.  Asaph  was  translated  to  Worcester. 

The  Dutch  Guards  immediately  began  to  march  to  the 
coast.  After  all  the  clamor  which  had  been  raised  against 
them,  the  populace  witnessed  their  departure  rather  with  sor- 
row than  with  triumph.  They  had  been  long  domiciled  here  ; 
they  had  been  honest  and  inoffensive ;  and  many  of  them  were 
accompanied  by  English  wives  and  by  young  children  who 
talked  no  language  but  English.   As  they  traversed  the  capital, 


♦  I  doubt  whether  there  be  extant  a  sentence  of  worse  English  than  that  on  which  the 
House  divided.  It  is  not  merely  inelegant  and  ungraramatical,  but  is  evidently  the  work  of 
.a  man  of  puzzled  understanding,  probably  of  Harley.  "  It  is,  Sir,  to  your  loyal  Commons 
an  unspeakable  grief,  that  any  thing  should  be  asked  by  Your  Majesty's  message  to  which 
they  cannot  consent,  without  doing  violence  to  that  constitution  Your  Majesty  came  over  to 
sestore  and  preserve ;  and  did,  a«t  tAat  time,  m  your  gracious  drclaration,  promise,  that  aU 
(hose  foreign  forces  which  came  over  with  you  should  be  sent  back." 


33d 


klSTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


not  a  single  shout  of  exultation  was  raised  ;  and  they  wefe 
almost  everywhere  greeted  with  kindness.  One  rude  spectator, 
indeed,  was  heard  to  remark  that  Hans  made  a  much  bettet 
figure,  now  that  he  had  been  living  ten  years  on  the  fat  of  .iie 
land,  then  when  he  first  came.  "  A  pretty  figure  you  would 
have  made,''  said  a  Dutch  soldier,  "  if  we  had  not  come.''  And 
the  retort  was  generally  applauded.  It  would  not,  however,  be 
reasonable  to  infer  from  the  signs  of  public  sympathy  and  good 
will  with  which  the  foreigners  were  dismissed  that  the  nation 
wished  them  to  remain.  It  was  probably  because  they  were 
going  that  they  were  regarded  with  favor  by  many  who  would 
never  have  seen  them  relieve  guard  at  St.  James's  without 
black  looks  and  muttered  curses. 

Side  by  side  with  the  discussion  about  the  land  force  had 
been  proceeding  a  discussion  scarcely  less  animated,  about  the 
naval  administration.  The  chief  minister  of  marine  was  a  man 
whom  it  had  once  been  useless  and  even  perilous  to  attack  in 
the  Commons.  It  was  to  no  purpose  that,  in  1693,  grave 
charges,  resting  on  grave  evidence,  had  been  brought  against 
the  Russell  who  had  conquered  at  La  Hogue.  The  name  of 
Russell  acted  as  a  spell  on  all  who  loved  English  freedom.  The 
name  of  La  Hogue  acted  as  a  spell  on  all  who  were  proud  of 
the  glory  of  the  English  arms.  The  accusations,  unexamined 
and  unrefuted,  were  contemptuously  flung  aside :  and  the  thanks 
of  the  House  were  voted  to  the  accused  commander  without 
one  dissentient  voice.  But  times  had  changed.  The  admiral 
still  had  zealous  partisans  :  but  the  fame  of  his  exploits  had 
lost  their  gloss ;  people  in  general  were  quick  to  discern  his 
faults :  and  his  faults  were  but  too  discernible.  That  he  had 
carried  on  a  traitorous  correspondence  with  Saint  Germains  had 
not  been  proved,  and  had  been  pronounced  by  the  representa- 
tives of  the  people  to  be  a  foul  calumny.  Yet  the  imputation 
had  left  a  stain  on  his  name.  His  arrogant,  insolent,  and  quar- 
relsome temper,  made  him  an  object  of  hatred.  What  his  official 
merits  and  demerits  really  were  it  is  not  easy  to  discover 
through  the  mist  made  up  of  factious  abuse  and  factious  pane- 
gyric. One  set  of  writers  described  him  as  the  most  ravenous 
of  all  the  plunderers  of  the  poor  overtaxed  nation.  Another  set 
asserted  that  under  him  the  ships  were  better  built  and  rigged, 
the  crews  were  better  disciplined  and  better  tempered,  the 
biscuit  was  better,  the  beer  was  better,  the  slops  were  better 
than  under  any  of  his  predecessors  ;  and  yet  that  the  charge  to 
the  public  was  less  than  it  had  been  when  the  vessels  were  un- 
seaworthy,  when  the  sailors  were  riotous,  when  the  food  was 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


alive  with  vermin,  when  the  drink  tasted  like  tanpickle,  and 
when  the  clothes  and  hammocks  were  rotten.  It  may,  however, 
be  observed  that  these  two  representations  are  not  inconsistent 
with  each  other ;  and  there  is  strong  reason  to  believe  that  both 
are,  to  a  great  extent,  true.  Orford  was  covetous  and  unprin- 
cipled ;  but  he  had  great  professional  skill  and  knowledge, 
great  industry,  and  a  strong  will.  He  was,  therefore,  a  useful 
servant  of  the  state  when  the  interests  of  the  state  were  not 
opposed  to  his  own  :  and  this  was  more  than  could  be  said  of 
some  who  had  preceded  him.  He  was,  for  example,  an  incom- 
parably better  administrator  than  Torrington.  For  Torrington's 
weakness  and  negligence  caused  ten  times  as  much  mischief  as 
his  rapacity.  But,  when  Orford  had  nothing  to  gain  by  doing 
what  was  wrong,  he  did  what  was  right,  and  did  it  ably  and 
diligently.  Whatever  Torrington  did  not  embezzle  he  wasted. 
Orford  may  have  embezzled  as  much  as  Torrington  ;  but  he 
wasted  nothing. 

Early  in  the  session,  the  House  of  Commons  resolved  itself 
into  a  Committee  on  the  state  of  the  Navy.  This  Committee 
sat  at  intervals  during  more  than  three  months.  Orford's  ad- 
ministration underwent  a  close  scrutiny,  and  very  narrowly 
escaped  a  severe  censure.  A  resolution  condemning  the  manner 
in  which  his  accounts  had  been  kept  was  lost  by  only  one  vote. 
There  were  a  hundred  and  forty  against  him,^and  a  hundred 
and  forty-one  for  him.  When  the  report  was  presented  to  the 
House,  another  attempt  was  made  to  put  a  stigma  upon  him. 
It  was  moved  that  the  King  should  be  requested  to  place  the 
direction  of  maritime  affairs  in  other  hands.  There  were  a 
hundred  and  sixty  Ayes  to  a  hundred  and  sixty-four  Noes. 
With  this  victory,  a  victory  hardly  to  be  distinguised  from  a 
defeat,  his  friends  were  forced  to  be  content.  An  address  set- 
ting forth  some  of  the  abuses  in  the  naval  department,  and  be- 
seeching King  William  to  correct  them,  was  voted  without  a 
division.  In  one  of  those  abuses  Orford  was  deeply  interested. 
He  was  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty ;  and  he  had  held,  ever 
since  the  Revolution,  the  lucrative  place  of  Treasurer  of  the 
Navy.  It  was  evidently  improper  that  two  offices,  one  of 
which  was  meant  to  be  a  check  on  the  other,  should  be  united 
'in  the  same  person ;  and  this  the  Commons  represented  to  the 
King. 

Questions  relating  to  the  military  and  naval  Establishments 
occupied  the  attention  of  the  Commons  so  much  during  the 
session  that,  until  the  prorogation  was  at  hand,  little  was  said 
about  the  resumption  of  the  Crown  grants.    But,  just  before 


332 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


the  Land  Tax  Bill  was  sent  up  to  the  Lords,  a  clause  was  added 
to  it  by  which  seven  Commissioners  were  empowered  to  take 
account  of  the  property  forfeited  in  Ireland  during  the  late 
troubles.  The  selection  of  those  Commissioners  the  House 
reserved  to  itself.  Every  member  was  directed  to  bring  a  list 
containing  the  names  of  seven  persons  who  were  not  members  ; 
and  the  seven  names  which  appeared  in  the  greatest  number 
of  lists  were  inserted  in  the  bill.  The  result  of  the  ballot  was 
unfavorable  to  the  government.  Four  of  the  seven  on  whom 
the  choice  fell  were  connected  with  the  opposition  ;  and  one  of 
them,  Trenchard,  was  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  pamphlet- 
eers who  had  been  during  many  months  employed  in  raising  a 
cry  against  the  army. 

The  Land  Tax  Bill,  with  this  clause  tacked  to  it,  was  car- 
ried to  the  Upper  House.  The  Peers  complained,  and  not 
without  reason,  of  this  mode  of  proceeding.  It  may,  they  said, 
be  very  proper  that  Commissioners  should  be  appointed  by 
Act  of  Parliament  to  take  account  of  the  forfeited  property  in 
Ireland.  But  they  should  be  appointed  by  a  separate  Act. 
Then  we  should  be  able  to  make  amendments,  to  ask  for  (Con- 
ferences, to  give  and  receive  explanations.  The  Land  Tax 
Bill  we  cannot  amend.  We  may  indeed  reject  it ;  but  we  can- 
not reject  it  without  shaking  public  credit,  without  leaving  the 
kingdom  defenceless,  without  raising  a  mutiny  in  the  navy. 
The  Lords  yielded,  but  not  without  a  protest  which  was  signed 
by  some  strong  Whigs  and  some  strong  Tories.  The  King 
was  even  more  displeased  than  the  Peers.  **This  Commis- 
sion," he  said,  in  one  of  his  private  letters,  "will  give  plenty  of 
trouble  next  winter."  It  did  indeed  give  more  trouble  than  he 
at  all  anticipated,  and  brought  the  nation  nearer  than  it  has 
ever  since  been  to  the  verge  of  another  revolution. 

And  now  the  supplies  had  been  voted.  The  spring  was 
brightening  and  blooming  into  summer.  The  lords  and  squires 
were  sick  of  London  ;  and  the  King  was  sick  of  England.  On 
the  fourth  day  of  May  he  prorogued  the  Houses  with  a  speech 
very  different  from  the  speeches  with  which  he  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  dismissing  the  preceding  Parliament.  He  uttered  not 
one  word  of  thanks  or  praise.  He  expressed  a  hope  that,  when 
they  should  meet  again,  they  would  make  effectual  provision 
for  the  public  safety.  "  I  wish,"  these  were  his  concluding 
words,  "no  mischief  may  happen  in  the  meantime."  The  gen- 
tlemen who  thronged  the  bar  withdrew  in  wrath,  and,  as  they 
could  not  take  immediate  vengeance,  laid  up  his  reproaches  io 
their  hearts  against  the  beginning  of  the  next  session. 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


333 


The  Houses  had  broken  up  ;  but  there  was  still  much  to  be 
do»e  before  the  King  could  set  out  for  Loo.  He  did  not  yet 
perceive  that  the  true  way  to  escape  from  his  difficulties  was 
to  form  an  entirely  new  ministry  possessing  the  confidence  of 
the  majority  which  had,  in  the  late  session,  been  found  so  un- 
manageable. But  some  partial  changes  he  could  not  help 
making.  The  recent  votes  of  the  Commons  forced  him  se- 
riously to  consider  the  state  of  the  Board  of  Admiralty.  It 
was  impossible  that  Orford  could  continue  to  preside  at  that 
Board  and  to  be  at  the  same  time  Treasurer  of  the  Navy.  He 
was  offered  his  option.  His  own  wish  was  to  keep  the  Treas- 
urership,  which  was  both  the  more  lucrative  and  the  more  se- 
cure of  his  two  places.  But  it  was  so  strongly  represented  to 
him  that  he  would  disgrace  himself  by  giving  up  great  power 
for  the  sake  of  gains  which,  rich  and  childless  as  he  was,  ought 
to  have  been  beneath  his  consideration,  that  he  determined  to 
remain  at  the  Admiralty.  He  seems  to  have  thought  that  the 
sacrifice  which  he  had  made  entitled  him  to  govern  despotically 
the  department  at  which  he  had  been  persuaded  to  remain. 
But  he  soon  found  that  the  King  was  determined  to  keep  in  his 
own  hands  the  power  of  appointing  and  removing  the  Junior 
Lords.  One  of  these  Lords,  especially,  the  First  Commissioner 
hated,  and  was  bent  on  ejecting,  Sir  George  Rooke,  who  was 
Member  of  Parliament  for  Portsmouth.  Rooke  was  a  brave 
and  skillful  officer,  and  had,  therefore,  though  a  Tory  in  politics, 
been  suffered  to  keep  his  place  during  the  ascendancy  of  the 
Whig  Junto.  Orford  now  complained  to  the  King  that  Rooke 
had  been  in  correspondence  with  the  factious  opposition  which 
had  given  so  much  trouble,  and  had  lent  the  weight  of  his  pro- 
fessional and  official  authority  to  the  accusations  which  had 
been  brought  against  the  naval  administration.  The  King 
spoke  to  Rooke,  who  declared  that  Orford  had  been  misin- 
formed. "  I  have  a  great  respect  for  my  Lord  :  and  on  proper 
occasions  I  have  not  failed  to  express  it  in  public.  There  have 
certainly  been  abuses  at  the  Admiralty  which  I  am  unable  to 
defend.  When  these  abuses  have  been  the  subject  of  debate 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  I  have  sate  silent.  But,  whenever 
any  personal  attack  has  been  made  on  my  Lord,  I  have  done 
him  the  best  service  that  I  could."  William  was  satisfied,  and 
thought  that  Orford  should  have  been  satisfied  too.  But  that 
haughty  and  perverse  nature  could  be  content  with  nothing  but 
absolute  dominion.  He  tendered  his  resignation,  and  could 
not  be  induced  to  retract  it.  He  said  that  he  could  be  of  no 
use.    It  would  be  easy  to  supply  his  place  j  and  his  successors 


334 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


shoukl  have  his  best  wishes.  He  then  retired  to  the  country, 
where,  as  was  reported,  and  may  easily  be  believed,  he  vented 
his  ill  humor  in  furious  invectives  against  the  King.  The 
Treasurership  of  the  Navy  was  given  to  the  Speaker  Littleton. 
The  Earl  of  Bridgewater,  a  nobleman  of  very  fair  character 
and  of  some  experience  in  business,  became  First  Lord  of  the 
Admiralty. 

Other  changes  were  made  at  the  same  time.  There  had 
during  some  time  been  really  no  Lord  President  of  the  Coun- 
cil. Leeds,  indeed,  was  still  called  Lord  President,  and,  as 
such,  took  precedence  of  dukes  of  older  creation  ;  but  he  had 
not  performed  any  of  the  duties  of  his  office  since  the  prosecu- 
tion instituted  against  him  by  the  Commons  in  1695  had  been 
suddenly  stopped  by  an  event  which  made  the  evidence  of  his 
guilt  at  once  legally  defective  and  morally  complete.  It  seems 
strange  that  a  statesman  of  eminent  ability,  who  had  been 
twice  Prime  Minister,  should  have  wished  to  hold,  by  so  igno- 
minious a  tenure,  a  place  which  can  have  had  no  attraction  for 
him  but  the  salary.  To  that  salary,  however,  Leeds  had  clung, 
year  after  year ;  and  he  now  relinquished  it  with  a  very  bad 
grace.  He  was  succeeded  by  Pembroke  ;  and  the  Privy  Seal 
which  Pembroke  laid  down  was  put  into  the  hands  of  a  peer  of 
recent  creation.  Viscount  Lonsdale.  Lonsdale  had  been  dis- 
tinguished in  the  House  of  Commons  as  Sir  John  Lowther,  and 
had  held  high  office,  but  had  quitted  public  life  in  weariness 
and  disgust,  and  had  passed  several  years  in  retirement  at  his 
hereditary  seat  in  Cumberland.  He  had  planted  forests  round 
his  house,  and  had  employed  Verrio  to  decorate  the  interior 
with  gorgeous  frescoes  which  represented  the  gods  at  their 
banquet  of  ambrosia.  Very  reluctantly,  and  only  in  compli- 
ance with  the  earnest  and  almost  angry  importunity  of  the 
King,  Lonsdale  consented  to  leave  his  magnificent  retreat,  and 
again  to  encounter  the  vexations  of  public  life. 

Trumball  resigned  the  Secretaryship  of  State  ;  and  the  seals 
which  he  had  held  were  given  to  Jersey,  who  was  succeeded  at 
Paris  by  the  Earl  of  Manchester. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  that  the  new  Privy  Seal  and  the  new 
Secretary  of  State  were  moderate  Tories.  The  King  had  prob- 
ably hoped  that,  by  calling  them  to  his  councils,  he  should 
conciliate  the  opposition.  But  the  device  proved  unsuccessful ; 
and  soon  it  appeared  that  the  old  practice  of  filling  the  chief 
offices  of  state  with  men  taken  from  various  parties,  and  hostile 
to  one  another,  or,  at  least,  unconnected  with  one  another,  was 
altogether  unsuited  to  the  new  state  of  affairs  ;  and  that,  since 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


33S 


the  Commons  had  become  possessed  of  supreme  power,  the 
only  way  to  prevent  them  from  abusing  that  power  with  bound- 
less folly  and  violence  was  to  entrust  the  government  to  a  minis- 
try which  enjoyed  their  confidence. 

While  William  was  making  these  changes  in  the  great 
offices  of  state,  a  change  in  which  he  took  a  still  deeper  interest 
was  taking  place  in  his  own  household.  He  had  labored  in 
vain  during  many  months  to  keep  the  peace  between  Portland 
and  Albemarle,  Albemarle,  indeed,  was  all  courtesy,  good 
humor,  and  submission  :  but  Portland  would  not  be  conciliated. 
Even  to  foreign  ministers  he  railed  at  his  rival  and  complained 
of  his  master.  The  whole  Court  was  divided  between  the  com- 
petitors, but  divided  very  unequally.  The  majority  took  the 
side  of  Albemarle,  whose  manners  were  popular  and  whose 
power  was  evidently  growing.  Portland's  few  adherents  were 
persons  who,  like  him,  had  already  made  their  fortunes,  and 
who  did  not,  therefore,  think  it  worth  their  while  to  transfer 
their  homage  to  a  new  patron.  One  of  these  persons  tried  to 
enlist  Prior  in  Portland's  faction,  but  with  very  little  success. 
"  Excuse  me,"  said  the  poet,  if  I  follow  your  example  and 
my  Lord's,  My  Lord  is  a  model  to  us  all ;  and  you  have  imita- 
ted him  to  good  purpose.  He  retires  with  half  a  million.  You 
have  large  grants,  a  lucrative  employment  in  Holland,  a  fine 
house,  I  have  nothing  of  the  kind.  A  court  is  like  those 
fashionable  churches  into  which  we  have  looked  at  Paris. 
Those  who  have  received  the  benediction  are  instantly  away  ^to 
the  Opera  House  or  the  Wood  of  Boulogne.  Those  who  have  not 
received  the  benediction  are  pressing  and  elbowing  each  other 
to  get  near  the  altar.  You  and  my  Lord  have  got  your  bless- 
ing, and  are  quite  right  to  take  yourselves  off  with  it,  I  have 
not  been  blest,  and  must  fight  my  way  up  as  well  as  I  can." 
Prior's  wit  was  his  own.  But  his  worldly  wisdom  was  common 
to  him  with  multitudes  ;  and  the  crowd  of  those  who  wanted  to 
be  lords  of  the  bedchamber,  rangers  of  parks,  and  lieutenants 
of  counties,  neglected  Portland  and  tried  to  ingratiate  them- 
selves with  Albemarle. 

By  one  person,  however,  Portland  was  still  assiduously 
courted  :  and  that  person  was  the  King.  Nothing  was  omitted 
which  could  soothe  an  irritated  mind.  Sometimes  William 
argued,  expostulated  and  implored  during  two  hours  together. 
But  he  found  the  comrade  of  his  youth  an  altered  man,  unrea- 
sonable, obstinate  and  disrespectful  even  before  the  pulDlic  eye. 
The  Prussian  minister,  an  observant  and  impartial  witness, 
declared  that  his  hair  had  more  than  once  stood  on  end  to  see 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANlOii 


the  rude  discourtesy  with  which  the  servant  repelled  the  grar 
cious  advances  of  the  master.  Over  and  over  William  invited  his 
old  friend  to  take  the  old  accustomed  seat  in  his  royal  coach, 
that  seat  which  Prince  George  himself  had  never  been  permitted 
to  invade  ;  and  the  invitation  was  over  and  over  declined  in  a 
way  which  would  have  been  thought  uncivil  even  between 
equals.  A  sovereign  could  not,  without  a  culpable  sacrifice  of 
his  personal  dignity,  persist  longer  in  such  a  contest.  Portland 
was  permitted  to  withdraw  from  the  palace.  To  Heinsius,  as  to 
a  common  friend,  William  announced  the  separation  in  a  letter 
which  shows  how  deeply  his  feelings  had  been  wounded.  "  I 
cannot  tell  you  what  I  have  suffered.  I  have  done  on  my  side 
everything  that  I  could  do  to  satisfy  him ;  but  it  was  decreed 
that  a  blind  jealousy  should  make  him  regardless  of  everything 
that  ought  to  have  been  dear  to  him."  To  Portland  himself 
the  King  wrote  in  language  still  more  touching.  "  I  hope  that 
you  will  oblige  me  in  one  thing.  Keep  your  key  of  office.  I 
shall  not  consider  you  as  bound  to  any  attendance.  But  I  beg 
you  to  let  me  see  you  as  often  as  possible.  That  will  be  a  great 
mitigation  of  the  distress  which  you  have  caused  me.  For, 
after  all  that  has  passed,  I  cannot  help  loving  you  tenderly." 

Thus  Portland  retired  to  enjoy  at  his  ease  immense  estates 
scattered  over  half  the  shires  of  England,  and  a  hoard  of  ready 
money,  such,  it  was  said,  as  no  other  private  man  in  Europe 
possessed.  His  fortune  still  continued  to  grow.  For,  though, 
after  the  fashion  of  his  countrymen,  he  laid  out  large  sums  on 
the  interior  decoration  of  his  houses,  on  his  gardens,  and  on  his 
aviaries,  his  other  expenses  were  regulated  with  strict  frugality. 
His  repose  was,  however,  during  some  years  not  uninterrupted. 
He  had  been  trusted  with  such  gave  secrets,  and  employed  in 
such  high  missions,  that  his  assistance  was  still  frequently  neces- 
sary to  the  government ;  and  the  assistance  was  given,  not,  as 
formerly,  with  the  ardor  of  a  devoted  friend,  but  with  the  ex- 
actness of  a  conscientious  servant.  He  still  continued  to  receive 
letters  from  William ;  letters  no  longer  indeed  overflowing  with 
kindness,  but  always  indicative  of  perfect  confidence  and  es- 
teem. 

The  chief  subject  of  those  letters  was  the  question  which  had 
been  for  a  time  settled  in  the  previous  autumn  at  Loo,  and  which 
had  been  reopened  in  the  spring  by  the  death  of  the  Electoral 
Prince  of  Bavaria. 

As  soon  as  that  event  was  known  at  Paris,  Lewis  directed 
Tallard  to  sound  William  as  to  a  new  treaty. 

The  first  thought  which  occurred  to  William  was  that  it  might 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


337 


be  possible  to  put  the  Elector  of  Bavaria  in  his  son's  place.  But 

this  suggestion  was  coldly  received  at  Versailles,  and  not  without 
reason.    If,  indeed,  the  young  Francis  Joseph  had  lived  to 
succeed  Charles,  and  had  then  died  a  minor  without  issue,  the 
case  would  have  been  very  different.    Then  the  Elector  would 
have  been  actually  adminstering  the  government  of  the  Spanish  ' 
monarchy,  and  supported  by  France,  England  and  the  United 
Provinces,  might  without  much  difficulty  have  continued  to  rule 
as  King  the  empire  which  he  had  begun  to  rule  as  Regent.  He 
would  have  had  also,  not  indeed  a  right,  but  something  which 
to  the  vulgar  would  have  looked  like  a  right,  to  be  his  son's  heir. 
Now  he  was  altogether  unconnected  with  Spain.    No  more  rea- 
son could  be  given  for  selecting  him  to  be  the  Catholic  King 
than  for  selecting  the  Margrave  of  Baden  or  the  Grand  Duke 
of  Tuscany.    Something  was  said  about  Victor  Amadeus  of 
Savoy,  and  something  about  the  King  of  Portugal ;  but  to  both 
there  were  insurmountable  objections.  It  seemed,  therefore, 
that  the  only  choice  was  between  a  French  Prince  and  an 
Austrian  Prince ;  and  William  learned  with  agreeable  surprise, 
that  Lewis  might  possibly  be  induced  to  suffer  the  younger 
Archduke  to  be  King  of  Spain  and  the  Indies.  It  was  intimated 
at  the  same  time  that  the  House  of  Bourbon  would  expect,  in 
return  for  so  great  a  concession  to  the  rival  House  of  Hapsburg, 
greater  advantages  than  had  been  thought  sufficient  when  the 
Dauphin  consented  to  waive  his  claims  in  favor  of  a  candidate 
whose  elevation  could  cause  no  jealousies.  What  Lewis  demand- 
ed, in  addition  to  the  portion  formerly  assigned  to  France,  was 
the  Milanese.    With  the  Milanese  he  proposed  to  buy  Lorraine 
from  its  Duke.  To  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  this  arrangement  would 
have  been  beneficial,  and  to  the  people  of  Lorraine  more  benefi- 
cial still.  They  were,  and  had  long  been,  in  a  singularly  unhappy 
situation.  Lewis  domineered  over  them  as  if  they  had  been  his 
subjects,  and  troubled  himself  as  little  about  their  happiness  as 
if  they  had  been  his  enemies.    Since  he  exercised  as  absolute  a 
power  over  them  as  over  the  Normans  and  Burgundians,  it  was 
desirable  that  he  should  have  as  great  an  interest  in  their  wel- 
fare as  in  the  welfare  of  the  Normans  and  Burgundians. 

On  the  basis  proposed  by  France  William  was  willing  to 
negotiate  :  and,  when,  in  June  1699,  he  left  Kensington  to  pass 
the  summer  at  Loo,  the  terms  of  the  treaty  known  as  the  Second 
Treaty  of  Partition  were  very  nearly  adjusted.  The  great  ob- 
ject now  was  to  obtain  the  consent  of  the  Emperor.  That  con- 
sent, it  should  seem,  ought  to  have  been  readily  and  even  eag- 
erly given.    Had  it  been  given,  it  might  perhaps  have  s^ye4 


338 


BISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


Christendom  from  a  war  of  eleven  years.    But  the  policy  of 

Austria  was,  at  that  time,  strangely  dilatory  and  irresolute.  It 
was  in  vain  that  William  and  Heinsius  represented  the  impor* 
tance  of  every  hour.  *'  The  Emperor's  ministers  go  on  dawd- 
ling," so  the  King  wrote  to  Heinsius,  not  because  there  is  any 
difficulty  about  the  matter,  not  because  they  mean  to  reject  the 
terms,  but  solely  because  they  are  people  who  can  make  up  their 
minds  to  nothing.''  While  the  negotiation  at  Vienna  was  thu» 
drawn  out  into  endless  length,  evil  tidings  came  from  Madrid 
Spain  and  her  King  had  long  been  sunk  so  low  that  it 
seemed  impossible  for  either  to  sink  lower.  Yet  the  political 
maladies  of  the  monarchy  and  the  physical  maladies  of  the 
monarch  went  on  growing,  and  exhibited  every  day  some  new 
and  frightful  symptom.  Since  the  death  of  the  Bavarian 
Prince,  the  Court  had  been  divided  between  the  Austrian  fac- 
tion, of  which  the  Queen  and  the  leading  ministers  Oropesa 
and  Melgar  were  the  chiefs,  and  the  French  faction,  of  which 
the  most  important  member  was  Cardinal  Portocarrero,  Arch- 
bishop of  Toledo.  At  length  an  event  which,  as  far  as  can 
now  be  judged,  was  not  the  effect  of  a  deeply  meditated  plan^ 
and  was  altogether  unconnected  with  the  disputes  about  the 
succession,  gave  the  advantage  to  the  adherents  of  France^ 
The  government,  having  committed  the  great  error  of  under- 
taking to  supply  Madrid  with  food,  committed  the  still  greater 
error  of  neglecting  to  perform  what  it  had  undertaken.  The 
price  of  bread  doubled.  Complaints  were  made  to  the  magis- 
trates, and  were  heard  with  the  indolent  apathy  characteristic 
of  the  Spanish  administration  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest 
grade.  Then  the  populace  rose,  attacked  the  house  of  Oropesa, 
poured  by  thousands  into  the  great  court  of  the  palace,  and 
insisted  on  seeing  the  King.  The  Queen  appeared  in  a  bal- 
cony, and  told  the  rioters  that  His  Majesty  was  asleep.  Then 
the  multitude  set  up  a  roar  of  fury.  It  is  false  :  we  do  not 
believe  you.  We  will  see  him."  "  He  has  slept  too  long," 
said  one  threatening  voice  ;  ^'  and  it  is  high  time  that  he  should 
wake."  The  Queen  retired  weeping  ;  and  the  wretched  being 
on  whose  dominions  the  sun  never  set  tottered  to  the  window, 
bowed  as  he  had  never  bowed  before,  muttered  some  gracious 
promises,  waved  a  handkerchief  in  the  air,  bowed  again,  and 
withdrew.  Oropesa,  afraid  of  being  torn  to  pieces,  retired  to 
his  country  seat.  Melgar  made  some  show  of  resistance, 
garrisoned  his  house,  and  menaced  the  rabble  with  a  shower 
of  grenades,  but  was  soon  forced  to  go  after  Oropesa  :  and  the 
supreme  power  pas3ed  to  Portocarrero, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


339 


Portocarrero  was  one  of  a  race  of  men  of  whom  we,  happily 
for  us,  have  see-n  very  little,  but  whose  influence  has  been  the 
curse  of  Roman  Catholic  countries.  He  was,  like  Sixtus  the 
Fourth  and  Alexander  the  Sixth,  a  politician  made  out  of  an 
impious  priest.  Such  politicians  are  generally  worse  than  the 
worst  of  the  laity,  more  merciless  than  any  ruffian  that  can  be 
found  in  camps,  more  dishonest  than  any  pettifogger  who 
hauntSf  the  tribunals.  The  sanctity  of  their  profession  has  an 
unsanctifying  influence  on  them.  The  lessons  of  the  nursery, 
the  habits  of  boyhood  and  of  early  youth,  leave  in  the  minds  of 
the  great  majority  of  avowed  infidels  some  traces  of  religion, 
which,  in  seasons  of  mourning  and  of  sickness,  become  plainly 
discernible.  But  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  any  such  trace 
should  remain  in  the  mind  of  the  hypocrite  who,  during  many 
years,  is  constantly  going  through  what  he  considers  as  the 
mummery  of  preaching,  saying  mass,  baptizing,  shriving.  When 
an  ecclesiastic  of  this  sort  mixes  in  the  contests  of  men  of  the 
world,  he  is  indeed  much  to  be  dreaded  as  an  enemy,  but  still 
more  to  be  dreaded  as  an  ally.  From  the  pulpit  where  he  daily 
employs  his  eloquence  to  embellish  what  he  regards  as  fables, 
from  the  altar  whence  he  daily  looks  down  with  secret  scorn  on 
the  prostrate  dupes  who  believe  that  he  can  turn  a  drop  of 
wine  into  blood,  from  the  confessional  where  he  daily  studies 
with  cold  and  scientific  attention  the  morbid  anatomy  of  guilty 
consciences,  he  brings  to  courts  some  talents  which  may  move, 
the  envy  of  the  more  cunning  and  unscrupulous  of  lay  cour- 
tiers ;  a  rare  skill  in  reading  characters  and  in  managing 
tempers,  a  rare  art  of  dissimulation,  a  rare  dexterity  in  insin- 
uating what  it  is  not  safe  to  affirm  or  to  propose  in  explicit 
terms.  There  are  two  feelings  which  often  prevent  an  un- 
principled layman  from  becoming  utterly  depraved  and  despic- 
able, domestic  feeling,  and  chivalrous  feeling.  His  heart  may 
be  softened  by  the  endearments  of  a  family.  His  pride  may 
revolt  from  the  thought  of  doing  what  does  not  become  a 
gentleman.  But  neither  with  the  domestic  feeling  nor  with  the 
chivalrous  feeling  has  the  wicked  priest  any  sympathy.  His 
gown  excludes  him  from  the  closest  and  most  tender  of  human 
relations,  and  at  the  same  time  dispenses  him  from  the  obser- 
vation of  the  fashionable  code  of  honor. 

Such  a  priest  was  Portocarrero  ;  and  he  seems  to  have  been 
a  consummate  master  of  his  craft.  To  the  name  of  statesman 
he  had  no  pretensions.  The  lofty  part  of  his  predecessor 
Ximenes  was  tut  of  the  range,  not  more  of  his  intellectual,  than 
his  moral  capacity.    To  reanimate  a  paralyzed  and  torpid  mon« 


340 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAN©, 


archy,  to  introduce  order  and  economy  into  a  bankrupt  treasury, 
to  restore  the  discipline  of  an  army  which  had  become  a  mob, 
to  refit  a  navy  which  was  perishing  from  mere  rottenness,  these 
were  achievements  beyond  the  power,  beyond  even  the  ambi- 
tion, of  that  ignoble  nature.  But  there  was  one  task  for  which 
the  new  minister  was  admirably  qualified,  that  of  establishing, 
by  means  of  superstitious  terror,  an  absolute  dominion  over  a 
feeble  mind ;  and  the  feeblest  of  all  minds  was  that  of  his  un- 
happy sovereign.  Even  before  the  riot  which  made  the  cardi- 
nal supreme  in  the  state,  he  had  succeeded  in  introducing  into 
the  palace  a  new  confessor  selected  by  himself.  In  a  very 
short  time  the  King's  malady  took  a  new  form.  That  he  was 
too  weak  to  lift  his  food  to  his  misshapen  mouth,  that,  at 
thirty-seven,  he  had  the  bald  head  and  wrinkled  face  of  a  man 
of  seventy,  that  his  complexion  was  turning  from  yellow  to 
green,  that  he  frequently  fell  down  in  fits  and  remained  long 
insensible,  these  were  no  longer  the  worst  symptoms  of  his 
malady.  He  had  always  been  afraid  of  ghosts  and  demons  ; 
and  it  had  long  been  necessary  that  three  friars  should  watch 
every  night  by  his  restless  bed  as  a  guard  against  hobgoblins. 
But  now  he  was  firmly  convinced  that  he  was  bewitched,  that 
he  was  possessed,  that  there  was  a  devil  within  him,  that  there 
were  devils  all  around  him.  He  was  exorcised  according  fo 
the  forms  of  his  Church  :  but  this  ceremony,  instead  of  quieting 
him,  scared  him  out  of  almost  all  the  little  reason  that  nature 
had  given  him.  In  his  misery  and  despair  he  was  induced  to 
resort  to  irregular  modes  of  relief.  His  confessor  brought  to 
court  impostors  who  pretended  that  they  could  interrogate  the 
powers  of  darkness.  The  Devil  was  called  up,  sworn  and  ex- 
amined. This  strange  deponent  made  oath,  as  in  the  presence 
of  God,  that  His  Catholic  Majesty  was  under  a  spell,  which  had 
been  laid  on  him  many  years  before,  for  tha  purpose  of  pre- 
venting the  continuation  of  the  royal  line.  A  drug  had  been 
compounded  out  of  the  brains  and  kidneys  of  a  human  corpse, 
and  had  been  administered  in  a  cup  of  chocolate.  This  potion 
had  dried  up  all  the  sources  of  life  :  and  the  best  remedy  to 
which  the  patient  could  now  resort  would  be  to  swallow  a  bow! 
of  consecrated  oil  every  morning  before  breakfast.  Unhappily, 
the  authors  of  this  story  fell  into  contradrctions  which  they 
could  excuse  only  by  throwing  the  blame  on  Satan,  who,  they 
said,  was  an  unwilling  witness,  and  a  liar  from  the  beginning. 
In  the  midst  of  their  conjuring,  the  Inquisition  came  down 
upon  them.  It  must  ba  admitted  that,  if  the  Holy  Office  had 
reserved  all  its  terro/"'       -'"^^       -     would  not  now  hav^ 


WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


been  remembered  as  the  most  hateful  judicature  that  was  ever 
known  among  civilized  men.  The  subaltern  impostors  were 
thrown  into  dungeons.  But  the  chief  criminal  continued  to  be 
master  of  the  King  and  of  the  kingdom.  Meanwhile,  in  the 
distempered  mind  of  Charles  one  mania  succeeded  another. 
A  longing  to  pry  into  those  mysteries  of  the  grave  from  which 
human  beings  avert  their  thoughts  had  long  been  hereditary 
in  his  house.  Juana,  from  whom  the  mental  constitution  of 
her  posterity  seems  to  have  derived  a  morbid  taint,  had  sate, 
year  after  year,  by  the  bed  on  which  lay  the  ghastly  remains 
of  her  husband,  apparelled  in  the  rich  embroidery  and  jewels 
which  he  had  been  wont  to  wear  while  living.  Her  son  Charles 
found  an  eccentric  pleasure  in  celebrating  his  own  obsequies, 
in  putting  on  his  shroud,  placing  himself  in  the  coffin,  covering 
himself  with  the  pall,  and  lying  as  one  dead  till  the  requiem 
had  been  sung,  and  the  mourners  had  departed  leaving  him 
alone  in.  the  tomb,  Philip  the  Second  found  a  similar  pleasure 
in  gazing  on  the  huge  chest  of  bronze  in  which  his  remains 
were  to  be  laid,  and  especially  on  the  skull  which,  encircled 
with  the  crown  of  Spain,  grinned  at  him  from  the  cover. 
Philip  the  Fourth,  too,  hankered  after  burials  and  burial  places, 
gratified  his  curiosity  by  gazing  on  the  remains  of  his  great 
grandfather,  the  Emperor,  and  sometimes  stretched  himself  out 
at  full  length  like  a  corpse  in  the  niche  which  he  had  selected 
for  himself  in  the  royal  cemetery.  To  that  cemetery  his  son 
was  now  attracted  by  a  strange  fascination.  Europe  could  show 
no  more  magnificent  place  of  sepulture.  A  staircase  encrusted 
with  jasper  led  down  from  the  stately  church  of  the  Escurial 
into  an  octagon  situated  just  beneath  the  high  altar.  The  vault, 
impervious  to  the  sun,  was  rich  with  gold  and  precious  marbles 
which  reflected  the  blaze  from  a  huge  chandelier  of  silver.  On 
the  right  and  on  the  left  reposed,  each  in  a  massy  sarcophagus, 
the  departed  kings  and  queens  of  Spain.  Into  this  mausoleum 
the  king  descended  with  a  long  train  of  courtiers,  and  ordered 
the  coffins  to  be  unclosed.  His  mother  had  been  embalmed 
with  such  consummate  skill  that  she  appeared  as  she  had  ap- 
peared on  her  death-bed.  The  body  of  his  grandfather  too 
seemed  entire,  but  crumbled  into  dust  at  the  first  touch.  From 
Charles  neither  the  remains  of  his  mother  nor  those  of  his 
grandfather  could  draw  any  sign  of  sensibility.  But,  when  the 
gentle  and  graceful  Louisa  of  Orleans,  the  miserable  man's  first 
wife,  she  who  had  lighted  up  his  dark  existence  with  one  short 
and  pale  gleam  of  happiness,  presented  herself,  after  the  lapse 
of  ten  years,  to  his  eyes,  his  sullen  apathy  gave  way.      She  is 


«4« 


inSTORY  or  ENGLANt). 


in  heaven,"  he  cried  ;  "  and  I  shall  soon  be  there  with  her  : " 
and  with  all  'the  speed  of  which  his  limbs  were  capable,  he 
tottered  back  to  the  upper  air. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  Court  of  Spain  when,  in  the 
autumn  of  1699,  became  known  that,  since  the  death  of  the 
Electoral  Prince  of  Bavaria,  the  governments  of  France,  of 
England  and  of  the  United  Provinces,  were  busily  engaged  in 
framing  a  second  Treaty  of  Partition.  That  Castilians  would 
be  indignant  at  learning  that  any  foreign  potentate  meditated 
the  dismemberment  of  that  empire  of  which  Castile  was  the 
Ijead  might  have  been  foreseen.  But  it  was  less  easy  to  foresee 
that  William  would  be  the  chief  and  indeed  almost  the  only  ob- 
ject of  their  indignation.  If  the  meditated  partition  really  was 
unjustifiable,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  Lewis  was  far  more 
to  blame  than  William.  For  it  was  by  Lewis  and  not  by  WiU 
liam,  that  the  partition  had  been  originally  suggested  :  and  it 
was  Lewis  and  not  William,  who  was  to  gain  an  accession  of 
territory  by  the  partition.  Nobody  could  doubt  that  William 
would  most  gladly  have  acceded  to  any  arrangement  by  which 
the  Spanish  monarchy  could  be  preserved  entire  without  danger 
to  the  liberties  of  Europe,  and  that  he  had  agreed  to  the  divis- 
ion of  that  monarchy  solely  for  the  purpose  of  contenting  Lewis. 
Nevertheless  the  Spanish  ministers  carefully  avoided  whatever 
could  give  offence  to  Lewis,  and  indemnified  themselves  by  offer- 
ing  a  gross  indignity  to  William.  The  truth  is  that  their  pride 
had,  as  extravagant  pride  often  has,  a  close  affinity  with  mean- 
ness. They  knew  that  it  was  unsafe  to  insult  Lewis  ;  and  they 
believed  that  they  might  with  perfect  safety  insult  William. 
Lewis  was  absolute  master  of  his  large  kingdom.  He  had  at  no 
great  distance  armies  and  fleets  which  one  word  from  him  would 
put  in  motion.  If  he  were  provoked,  the  white  flag  might  in  a 
few  days  be  again  flying  on  the  walls  of  Barcelona.  His  im<« 
mense  power  was  contemplated  by  the  Castilians  with  hope  as 
well  as  with  fear.  He  and  he  alone,  they  imagined,  could  avert 
that  dismemberment  of  which  they  could  not  bear  to  think.  Per- 
haps he  might  yet  be  induced  to  violate  the  engagements  into 
which  he  had  entered  with  England  and  Holland,  if  one  of  his 
grandsons  were  named  successor  to  the  Spanish  throne.  He, 
therefore,  must  be  respected  and  courted.  But  William  could 
at  that  moment  do  little  to  hurt  or  to  help.  He  could  hardly 
be  said  to  have  an  army.  He  could  take  no  step  which  would 
require  an  outlay  of  money  without  the  sanction  of  the  House 
of  Commons :  and  it  seemed  to  be  the  chief  study  of  the  House 
of  Commons  to  cross  him  and  to  humble  him.    The  history  of 


WILLIAM  THK  THIRIX 


343 


the  late  session  was  known  to  the  Spaniards  principally  by  in- 
accurate reports  brought  by  Irish  friars.  And,  had  these  reports 
been  accurate,  the  real  nature  of  a  Parliamentary  struggle  be- 
tween the  Court  party  and  the  Country  party  could  have  been  but 
very  imperfectly  understood  by  the  magnates  of  a  realm  in  which 
there  had  not,  during  several  generations,  been  any  constitutional 
opposition  to  the  royal  pleasure.  At  one  time  it  was  generally 
believed  at  Madrid,  not  by  the  mere  rabble,  but  by  Grandees 
who  had  the  envied  privilege  of  going  in  coaches  and  four 
through  the  streets  of  the  capital,  that  William  had  been  deposed, 
that  he  had  retired  to  Holland,  that  the  Parliament  had  resolved 
that  there  should  be  no  more  kings,  that  a  commonwealth  had 
been  proclaimed,  and  that  a  Doge  was  about  to  be  appointed  ; 
and,  though  this  rumor  turned  out  to  be  false,  it  was  but  too 
true  that  the  English  government  was,  just  at  that  conjuncture, 
in  no  condition  to  resent  slights.  Accordingly  the  Marquess  of 
Canalee,  who  represented  the  Catholic  King  at  Westminster, 
received  instructions  to  remonstrate  in  strong  language,  and 
was  not  afraid  to  go  beyond  those  instructions.  He  delivered 
to  the  Secretary  of  State  a  note  abusive  and  impertinent  be- 
yond all  example  and  all  endurance.  His  master,  he  wrote, 
had  learnt  with  amazement  that  King  William,  Holland  and 
other  powers, — for  the  ambassador,  prudent  even  in  his  blus- 
tering, did  not  choose  to  name  the  great  King  of  France, — were 
engaged  in  framing  a  treaty,  not  only  for  settling  the  succession 
to  the  Spanish  crown,  but  for  the  detestable  purpose  of  divid- 
ing the  Spanish  monarchy.  The  whole  scheme  was  vehemently 
condemned  as  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature  and  to  the  law  of 
God.  The  ambassador  appealed  from  the  King  of  England  to 
the  Parliament,  to  the  nobility,  and  to  the  whole  nation,  and 
concluded  by  giving  notice  that  he  should  lay  the  whole  case 
before  the  two  Houses  when  next  they  met. 

The  style  of  this  paper  shows  how  strong  an  impression  had 
been  made  on  foreign  nations  by  the  unfortunate  events  of  the 
late  session.  Tlie  King,  it  was  plain,  was  no  longer  considered 
as  the  head  of  the  government.  He  was  charged  with  having 
committed  a  wrong ;  but  he  was  not  asked  to  make  reparation. 
He  was  treated  as  a  subordinate  officer  who  had  been  guilty  of 
an  offence  against  public  law,  and  was  threatened  with  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  Commons,  who,  as  the  real  rulers  of  the  state, 
were  bound  to  keep  their  servants  in  order.  The  Lords  Jus- 
tices read  this  outrageous  note  with  indignation,  and  sent  it 
with  all  speed  to  Loo.  Thence  they  received,  with  equal  speed, 
directions  to  send  Canales  out  of  the  country.    Qur  ambassadoj 


344 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


was  at  the  same  time  recalled  from  Madrid ;  and  all  diplomatic 

intercourse  between  England  and  Spain  was  suspended. 

It  is  probable  that  Canales  would  have  expressed  himself  in 
a  less  unbecoming  manner,  had  there  not  already  existed  a 
most  unfortunate  quarrel  between  Spain  and  William,  a  quarrel 
in  which  William  was  perfectly  blameless,  but  in  which  th« 
unanimous  feeling  ►of  the  English  Parliament  and  of  the  Eng* 
lish  nation  was  on  the  side  of  Spain. 

It  is  necessary  to  go  back  some  years  for  the  purpose  of 
tracing  the  origin  and  progress  of  this  quarrel.  Few  portions 
of  our  history  are  more  interesting  or  instructive  ;  but  few  have 
been  more  obscured  and  distorted  by  passion  and  prejudice. 
The  story  is  an  exciting  one ;  and  it  has  generally  been  told  by 
writers  whose  judgment  had  been  perverted  by  strong  national 
partiality.  Their  invectives  and  lamentations  have  still  to  be 
temperately  examined ;  and  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether, 
even  now,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  a  century  and  a  half, 
feelings  hardly  compatible  with  temperate  examination  will  not 
be  stirred  up  in  many  minds  by  the  name  of  Darien.  In  truth 
that  name  is  associated  with  calamities  so  cruel  that  the  recol- 
lection of  them  may  not  unnaturally  disturb  the  equipoise  even 
of  a  fair  and  sedate  mind. 

The  man  who  brought  these  calamities  on  his  country  was 
not  a  mere  visionary  or  a  mere  swindler.  He  was  that  William 
Paterson  whose  name  is  honorably  associated  with  the  auspi- 
cious commencement  of  a  new  era  in  English  commerce  and  in 
English  finance.  His  plan  of  a  national  bank,  having  been  ex- 
Mnined  and  approved  by  the  most  eminent  statesmen  who  sat 
in  the  Parliament  house  at  Westminster  and  by  the  "most  emi- 
nent merchants  who  walked  the  Exchange  of  London,  had  been 
carried  into  execution  with  signal  success.  He  thought,  and  per- 
haps thought  with  reason,  that  his  services  hadbe^^.nill  requited. 
He  was,*  indeed,  one  of  the  original  directors  of  tlie  great  cor- 
poration which  owed  its  existence  to  him,  but  he  was  not  re- 
electedo  It  may  easily  be  believed  that  his  colleagues,  citizens 
of  ample  fortune  and  of  long  experience  in  the  practical  part  of 
trade,  aldermen,  wardens  of  companies,  heads  of  firms  well 
known  in  every  Bourse  throughout  the  civilized  world,  were  not 
well  pleased  to  see  among  them  in  Grocers*  Hall  a  foreign  ad- 
venturer whose  whole  capital  consisted  in  an  inventive  brain 
and  a  persuasive  tongue.  Some  of  them  were  probably  weak 
enough  to  dislike  him  for  being  a  Scot :  some  w^ere  probably 
mean  enough  to  be  jealous  of  his  parts  and  knowledge :  and 
even  per3ons  who  were  not  unfavorably  disposed  to  him  might 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


345 


About  the  time  at  which  the  contending  armies  in  every 
part  of  Europe  were  going  into  winter  quaters,  a  new  PontiS 
ascended  the  chair  of  Saint  Peter.  Innocent  the  Eleventh 
was  no  more.  His  fate  had  been  strange  indeed.  His  con- 
scientious and  fervent  attachment  to  the  Church  of  which 
he  was  the  head  had  induced  him,  at  one  of  the  most  crit- 
ical conjunctures  in  her  history,  to  ally  himself  with  her 
mortal  enemies.  The  news  of  his  decease  was  received 
with  concern  and  alarm  by  Protestant  princes  and  com- 
monwealths, and  with  joy  and  hope  at  Versailles  and  Dub- 
lin. An  extraordinary  ambassador  of  high  rank  was 
instantly  despatched  by  Lewis  to  Rome.  The  French 
garrison  which  had  been  placed  in  Avignon  was  with- 
drawn. When  the  votes  of  the  Conclave  had  been 
united  in  favor  of  Peter  Ottobuoni,  an  ancient  Cardinal, 
who  assumed  the  appellation  of  Alexander  the  Eighth, 
the  representative  of  France  assisted  at  the  installation, 
bore  up  the  cope  of  the  new  Pontiff,  and  put  into  the  hands 
of  his  Holiness  a  letter  in  which  the  most  Christian  King 
declared  that  he  renounced  the  odious  privilege  of  pro- 
tecting robbers  and  assassins.  Alexander  pressed  the 
-letter  to  his  lips,  embraced  the  bearer,  and  talked  with 
rapture  of  the  near  prospect  of  reconciliation.  Lewis  be- 
gan to  entertain  a  hope  that  the  influence  of  the  Vatican 
might  be  exerted  to  dissolve  the  alliance  between  the 
House  of  Austria  and  the  heretical  usurper  of  the  English 
throne.  James  was  even  more  sanguine.  He  was  foolish 
enough  to  expect  that  the  new  Pope  would  give  him 
money,  and  ordered  Melfort,  who  had  now  acquitted  him- 
self of  his  mission  at  Versailles,  to  hasten  to  Rome,  and 
beg  his  Holiness  to  contribute  something  towards  the 
good  work  of  upholding  pure  religion  in  the  British 
islands.  But  it  soon  appeared  that  Alexander,  though 
he  might  hold  language  different  from  that  of  his  prede- 
cessor, was  determined  to  follow  in  essentials  his  predeces- 
sor's policy.  The  original  cause  of  the  quarrel  between  the 
Holy  See  and  Lewis,  wa*  not  removed.  The  King  contin- 
ued to  appoint  prelates:  the  Pope  continued  to  refuse  them 
institution;  and  the  consequence  was  that  a  fourth  part  of 
the  dioceses  of  France  had  bishops  who  were  incapable  of 
performing  any  episcopal  function.* 

♦See  the  Mercuries  for  September,  1689,  and  the  four  following  months.  See  also  Wel- 
wood's  Mercurius  Reformatus  of  Sept.  18,  Sept.  25,  and  Oct,  8,  1689.  Melfort's  Instruc* 
tions,  and  his  memorials  to  the  Pope  and  the  Cardinal  of  Este,  are  anjong  the  Nairn^ 
Papers;  and  some  extracts  have  been  printed  by  Macphcrson. 
Vol. 


34^ 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  Anglican  Church  was,  at  this  time  not  less  distracted 
than  the  Galilean  Church.  The  first  of  August  had  been 
fixed  by  Act  of  Parliament  as  the  day  before  the  close  of 
which  all  beneficed  clergymen  and  all  persons  holding 
academical  offices  must,  on  pain  of  suspension,  swear  al- 
legiance to  William  and  Mary.  During  the  earlier  part  of 
the  summer,  the  Jacobites  had  hoped  that  the  number  of 
nonjurors  would  be  so  considerable  as  seriously  to  alarm 
and  embarrass  the  goverqujient.  But  this  hope  was  dis- 
appointed. Few  indeed  of  the  clergy  were  Whigs.  Few 
were  Tories  of  that  moderate  school  which  acknowledged, 
reluctantly  and  with  reserve,  that  extreme  abuses  might 
sometimes  justify  a  nation  in  resorting  to  extreme  rem- 
edies. The  great  majority  of  the  profession  still  held  the 
doctrine  of  passive  obedience:  but  that  majority  was  now 
divided  into  two  sections.  A  question,  which,  before  the 
Revolution,  had  been  mere  matter  of  speculation,  and  had 
therefore,  though  sometimes  incidentally  raised,  been,  by 
most  persons,  very  superficially  considered,  had  now  be- 
come practically  most  important.  The  doctrine  of  passive 
obedience  being  taken  for  granted,  to  whom  was  that 
obedience  due?  While  the  hereditary  right  and  the  pos- 
session were  conjoined,  there  was  no  room  for  doubt:  but 
the  hereditary  right  and  the  possession  were  now  separated. 
One  prince,  raised  by  the  Revolution,  was  reigning  at  West- 
minster, passing  laws,  appointing  magistrates  and  prelates, 
sending  forth  armies  and  fleets.  His  judges  decided  causes. 
His  sheriffs  arrested  debtors,  and  executed  criminals. 
Justice,  order,  property,  would  cease  to  exist,  and  society 
would  be  resolved  into  chaos  but  for  his  Great  Seal. 
Another  prince,  deposed  by  the  Revolution,  was  living 
abroad.  He  could  exercise  none  of  the  powers  and  per- 
form none  of  the  duties  of  a  ruler,  and  could,  as  it  seemed, 
be  restored  only  by  means  as  violent  as  those  by  which  he 
had  been  displaced.  To  which  of  these  two  princes  did 
Christian  men  owe  allegiance? 

To  a  large  part  of  the  clergy  it  appeared  that  the  plain 
letter  of  Scripture  required  them  to  submit  to  the  Sovereign 
who  was  in  possession,  without  troubling  themselves  about 
his  title.  The  powers  which  the  Apostle,  in  the  text  most 
familiar  to  the  Anglican  divines  of  that  age,  pronounces 
to  be  ordained  of  God,  are  not  the  powers  that  can  be 
traced  back  to  a  legitimate  origin,  but  the  powers  that  be. 
When  Jesus  wns  asked  whether  the  chosen  people  might 


WiLLtAlVl  ANi)  HiARY. 


347 


lawfully  give  tribute  to  Caesar  he  replied  by  asking  the 
questioners,  not  whether  Caesar  could  make  out  a  pedigree 
derived  from  the  old  royal  house  of  Judah,  but  whether 
the  coin  which  they  scrupled  to  pay  into  Caesar's  treasury 
came  from  Caesar's  mint,  in  other  words,  whether  Caesar 
actually  possessed  the  authority  and  performed  the  func- 
tions     a  ruler. 

It  is  generally  held,  with  much  appearance  of  reason, 
that  the  most  trustworthy  comment  on  the  text  of  the 
Gospels  and  Espistles,  is  to  be  found  in  the  practice  of  the 
primitive  Christians,  when  that  practice  can  be  satisfac- 
torily ascertained;  and  it  so  happened  that  the  times  dur- 
ing which  the  Church  is  universally  acknowledged  to  have 
been  in  the  highest  state  of  purity  were  times  of  frequent 
and  violent  political  change.  One  at  least  of  the  Apostles 
appears  to  have  lived  to  see  four  Emperors  pulled  down 
in  little  more  than  a  year.  Of  the  martyrs  of  the  third 
century  a  great  proportion  must  have  been  able  to  remem- 
ber ten  or  twelve  revolutions.  Those  martyrs  must  have 
had  occasion  often  to  consider  what  was  their  duty  towards 
a  prince  just  raised  to  power  by  a  successful  insurrection. 
That  they  were,  one  and  all,  deterred  by  the  fear  of  pun- 
ishment from  doing  what  they  thought  right,  is  an  impu- 
tation which  no  candid  infidel  would  throw  on  them.  Yet, 
if  there  be  any  proposition  which  can  with  perfect  confi- 
dence be  affirmed  touching  the  early  Christians,  it  is  this, 
that  they  never  once  refused  obedience  to  any  actual  ruler 
on  account  of  the  illegitimacy  of  his  title.  At  one  time, 
indeed,  the  supreme  power  was  claimed  by  twenty  or 
thirty  competitors.  Every  province  from  Britain  to  Egypt 
had  its  own  Augustus.  All  these  pretenders  could  not  be 
rightful  Emperors.  Yet  it  does  not  appear  that,  in  any 
place,  the  faithful  had  any  scruple  about  submitting  to  the 
person  who,  in  that  place,  exercised  the  imperial  functions. 
While  the  Christian  of  Rome  obeyed  Aurelian,  the  Chris- 
tian of  Lyons  obeyed  Tetricus,  and  the  Christian  of  Pal- 
myra obeyed  Zenobia.  Day  and  night," — such  were  the 
words  which  the  great  Cyprian,  Bishop  of  Carthage,  ad- 
dressed to  the  representative  of  Valerian  and  Gallienus, — . 
"day  and  night  do  we  Christians  pray  to  the  one  true  God 
for  the  safety  of  our  Emperors.'*  Yet  those  Emperors  had 
a  few  months  before  pulled  down  their  predecessor  iEmilia- 
nus,  who  had  pulled  down  his  predecessor  Gallus,  who  had 
climbed  to  power  on  the  ruins  of  the  house  of  his  predeces- 


348 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


sor  Decius,  who  had  slain  his  predecessor  Philip,  who  had 
slain  his  predecessor  Gordian.  Was  it  possible  to  believe 
that  a  saint,  who  had,  in  the  short  space  of  thirteen  or  four- 
teen years,  borne  true  allegiance  to  this  series  of  rebels  and 
regicides,  would  have  made  a  schism  in  the  Christian  body 
rather  than  acknowledge  King  William  and  Queen  Mary? 
A  hundred  times  those  Anglican  divines  who  had  taken  the 
oaths  challenged  their  more  scrupulous  brethren  to  cite  a 
single  instance  in  which  the  primitive  Church  had  refused 
obedience  to  a  successful  usurper;  and  a  hundred  times  the 
challenge  was  evaded.  The  nonjurors  had  little  to  say  on 
this  head,  except  that  precedents  were  of  no  force  when 
opposed  to  principles,  a  proposition  which  came  with  but 
a  bad  grace  from  a  school  which  had  always  professed 
an  almost  superstitious  reverence  for  the  authority  of  the 
Fathers.* 

To  precedents  drawn  from  later  and  more  corrupt 
times,  little  respect  was  due.  But,  even  in  the  history  of 
later  and  more  corrupt  times,  the  nonjurors  could  not 
easily  find  any  precedent  that  could  serve  their  purpose. 
In  our  own  country  many  Kings,  who  had  not  the  heredi- 
tary right,  had  filled  the  throne:  but  it  had  never  been 
thought  inconsistent  with  the  duty  of  a  Christian  to  be  a 
true  liegeman  to  such  Kings.  The  usurpation  of  Henry 
the  Fourth,  the  more  odious  usurpation  of  Richard  the 
Third,  had  produced  no  schism  in  the  Church.  As  soon 
as  the  usurper  was  firm  in  his  seat.  Bishops  had  done  hom- 
age to  him  for  their  domains:  Convocations  had  presented 
addresses  to  him,  and  granted  him  supplies;  nor  had  any 
casuist  ever  pronounced  that  such  submission  to  a  prince 
in  possession  was  deadly  sin.f 

♦See  the  Answer  of  a  Nonjuror  to  the  Bishop  of  Sarum's  challenge  in  the  Appendix  to 
the  Life  of  Kettlewell.  Among  the  Tanner  MSS.  in  the  Bodleian  Library  is  a  paper 
which,  as  Sancroft  thought  it  worth  preserving,  I  venture  to  quote  The  writer,  a  strong 
nonjuror,  after  trying  to  evade,  by  many  pitiable  shifts,  the  argument  drawn  by  a  more 
compliant  divine  from  the  practice  of  the  primitive  Church,  proceeds  thus:  "Suppose 
the  primitive  Christians  all  along,  from  the  time  of  the  very  Apostles,  had  been  as  re- 
gardless of  their  oaths  by  former  princes  as  he  suggests,  will  he  therefore  say  that  their 
practice  is  to  be  a  rule?  Ill  things  have  been  done,  and  very  generally  abetted,  by  men, 
of  otherwise  very  orthodox  principles."  The  argument  from  the  practice  of  the  primi- 
tive Christians  is  very  strongly  put  in  a  tract  entitled  The  Doctrine  of  Nonresistance  or 
Passive  Obedience  No  Way  concerned  in  the  Controversies  now  depending  between  the 
Williamites  and  the  Jacobites,  by  a  Lay  Gentleman,  of  the  Communion  of  the  Church 
of  England,  as  by  Law  establish'd,  1689,  The  author  of  this  tract  was  Edmund  Bohun, 
whom  I  shall  have  occasion  to  mention  hereafter. 

tOne  of  the  most  adulatory  addresses  ever  voted  by  a  Convocation  was  to  Richard  the 
Third.  It  will  be  found  in  Wilkins's  Concilia.  Dryden,  in  his  fine  ri/acimento  of  one 
of  the  finest  passages  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales,  represents  the  Good 
Parson  as  choosing  to  resign  his  benefice  rather  than  acknowledge  the  Duke  of  Lancas- 
ter to  be  King  of  England.  For  this  representation  no  warrant  can  be  found  in  Chau- 
cer's poem,  or  anywhere  else.   Drydea  wished  to  write  something  that  would  gall  the 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


849 


With  the  practice  of  the  whole  Christian  Worid  the  au-- 
thoritative  teaching  of  the  Church  of  England  appeared  to 
be  in  strict  harmony.  The  Homily  on  Willful  Rebellion,  a 
discourse  which  inculcates,  in  unmeasured  terms,  the  duty 
of  obeying  rulers,  speaks  of  none  but  actual  rulers.  Nay, 
the  people  are  distinctly  told  in  that  Homily  that  they  are 
bound  to  obey,  not  only  their  legitimate  prince,  but  any 
usurper  whom  God  shall  in  anger  set  over  them  for  their 
sins.  And  surely  it  would  be  the  height  of  absurdity  to 
say  that  we  must  accept  submissively^  such  usurpers  as 
God  sends  in  anger  but  most  pertinaciously  withhold  our 
obedience  from  usurpers  whom  He  sends  in  mercy.  Grant 
that  it  was  a  crime  to  invite  the  Prince  of  Orange  over, 
a  crime  to  join  him,  a  crime  to  make  him  King;  yet  what 
was  the  whole  history  of  the  Jewish  nation  and  of  the 
Christian  Church  but  a  record  of  cases  in  which  Provi- 
dence had  brought  good  out  of  evil?  And  what  theologian 
would  assert  that,  in  such  cases,  we  ought,  from  abhor- 
rence of  the  evil,  to  reject  the  good? 

On  these  grounds  a  large  body  of  divines,  still  reassert- 
ing the  doctrine  that  to  resist  the  Sovereign  must  always 
be  sinful,  conceived  that  William  was  now  the  Sovereign 
whom  it  would  be  sinful  to  resist. 

To  these  arguments  the  nonjurors  replied  that  Saint 
Paul  must  have  meant  by  the  powers  that  be  the  rightful 
powers  that  be;  and  that  to  put  any  other  interpretation 
on  his  words  would  be  to  outrage  common  sense,  to  dis- 
honor religion,  to  give  scandal  to  weak  believers,  to  give 
an  occasion  of  triumph  to  scoffers.  The  feelings  of  all 
mankind  must  be  shocked  by  the  proposition  that,  as  soon 
as  a  King,  however  clear  his  title,  however  wise  and  good 
his  administration,  is  expelled  by  traitors,  all  his  servants 
are  bound  to  abandon  him,  and  to  range  themselves  on  the 
side  of  his  enemies.  In  all  ages  and  nations,  fidelity  to 
a  good  cause  in  adversity  had  been  regarded  as  a  virtue. 
In  all  ages  and  nations,  the  polititian  whose  practice  was 
always  to  be  on  the  side  which  was  uppermost  had  been 
despised.  This  new  Toryism  was  worse  than  Whiggism, 
To  breaK  through  the  ties  of  allegiance  because  the  Sov- 
ereign was  a  tyrant  was  doubtless  a  very  great  sin:  but  it 
was  a  sin  for  which  spacious  names  and  pretexts  might  be 
found,  and  into  which  a  brave  and  generous  man.  not  in- 

clergy  who  had  taken  the  oaths,  and  therefore  attributed  to  a  iPotnan  Catholic  priest  of 
the  fourteenth  century  a  superstition  which  originated  among  the  AnglicaB  priesta  oi 
the  seventeenth  century. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


stnicted  in  divine  truth  and  guarded  by  divine  grace, 
might  easily  fall.  But  to  break  through  the  ties  of  al- 
legiance merely  because  the  Sovereign  was  unfortunate 
was  not  only  wicked,  but  dirty.  C  juld  any  unbeliever 
offer  a  greater  insult  to  the  Scriptures  than  by  asserting 
that  the  Scriptures  had  enjoined  on  Christians  as  a  sacred 
duty  what  the  light  of  nature  had  taught  heathens  to  re- 
gard as  the  last  excess  of  baseness?  In  the  Scriptures 
was  to  he  found  the  history  of  a  King  of  Israel,  driven 
from  his  palace  by  an  unnatural  son,  and  compelled  to  fly 
beyond  Jordan.  David,  like  James,  had  the  right:  Ab- 
salom, like  William,  had  the  possession.  Would  any  stu- 
dent of  the  sacred  writings  dare  to  affirm  that  the  conduct 
of  Shimei  on  that  occasion  was  proposed  as  a  pattern  to  be 
imitated,  and  that  Barzillai,  who  loyally  adhered  to  his 
fugitive  master,  was  resisting  the  ordinance  of  God,  and 
receiving  to  himself  damnation?  Would  any  true  son  of 
the  Church  of  England  seriously  maintain  that  a  man  who 
was  a  strenuous  royalist  till  after  the  battle  of  Naseby, 
who  then  went  over  to  the  Parliament,  who,  as  soon  as  the 
Parliament  had  been  purged  became  an  obsequious  ser- 
vant of  the  Rump,  and  who,  as  soon  as  the  Rump  had 
been  ejected,  professed  himself  a  faithful  subject  of  the 
Protector,  was  more  deserving  of  the  respect  of  Christian 
men  than  the  stout  old  Cavalier  who  bore  true  fealty  to 
Charles  the  First  in  prison  and  to  Charles  the  Second  in 
exile,  and  who  was  ready  to  put  lands,  liberty,  life,  in  peril, 
rather  than  acknowledge,  by  word  or  act,  the  authority  of 
any  of  the  upstart  governments  which,  duiing  that  evil 
time,  obtained  possession  of  a  power  not  legitimately 
theirs?  And  what  distinction  was  there  between  that  case 
and  the  case  which  had  now  arisen?  That  Cromwell  had 
actually  enjoyed  as  much  power  as  William,  nay  much 
more  power  than  William,  was  quite  certain.  That  the 
power  of  William,  as  well  as  the  power  of  Cromwell,  had 
an  illegitimate  origin  every  divine  who  held  the  doctrine 
of  non-resistance  would  admit.  How  then  was  it  possible 
for  such  a  divine  to  deny  that  obedience  had  been  due  to 
Cromwell  and  yet  to  affirm  that  it  was  due  to  William? 
To  suppose  that  there  could  be  such  inconsistency  without 
dishonesty  would  be,  not  charity,  but  weakness.  Those 
who  were  determined  to  comply  with  the  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment would  do  better  to  speak  out,  and  to  say,  what  every- 
body knew,  that  they  complied  simply  to  save  their  beacficcs. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


The  motive  was  no  doubt  strong.  That  a  clergyman  who 
was  a  husband  and  a  father  should  look  forward  with 
dread  to  the  first  of  August  and  the  First  of  February  was 
natural.  But  he  would  do  well  to  remember  that,  however 
terrible  might  be  the  day  of  suspension  and  the  day  of 
deprivation,  there  would  assuredly  come  two  other  days 
more  terrible  still,  the  day  of  death  and  the  day  of  judg- 
ment.* 

The  swearing  clergy,  as  they  were  called,  were  not  a 
little  perplexed  by  this  reasoning.  Nothing  embarrassed 
them  more  than  the  analogy  which  the  nonjurors  were 
never  weary  of  pointing  out  between  the  usurpation  of 
Cromwell  and  the  usurpation  of  William.  For  there 
in  that  age  no  High  Churchman  who  would  not  have 
thought  himself  reduced  to  an  absurdity,  if  he  had  been 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  saying  that  the  Church  had 
commanded  her  sons  to  obey  Cromwell.  And  yet  it  was 
impossible  to  prove  that  William  was  more  fully  in  pos- 
session of  supreme  power  than  Cromwell  had  been.  The 
swearers  therefore  avoided  coming  to  close  quarters  with 
the  nonjurors  on  this  point,  as  carefully  as  the  nonjurors 
avoided  coming  to  close  quarters  with  the  swearers  on  the 
question  touching  the  practice  of  the  primitive  Church. 

The  truth  is  that  the  theory  of  government  which  had 
long  been  taught  by  the  clergy  was  so  absurd  that  it  could 
lead  to  nothing  but  absurdity.  Whether  the  priest  who 
adhered  to  that  theory  swore  or  refused  to  swear,  he  was 
alike  unable  to  give  a  rational  explanation  of  his  conduct. 
If  he  swore,  he  could  vindicate  his  swearing  only  by  laying 
down  propositions  against  which  every  honest  heart  in- 
stinctively revolts,  only  by  proclaiming  that  Christ  had 
commanded  the  Church  to  desert  the  righteous  cause  as 
soon  as  that  cause  ceased  to  prosper,  and  to  strengthen  the 
hands  of  successful  villainy  against  afflicted  virtue.  And 
yet,  strong  as  were  the  objections  to  this  doctrine,  the  ob- 
jections to  the  doctrine  of  the  nonjuror  were,  if  possible, 
stronger  still.  According  to  him,  a  Christian  nation  ought 
always  to  be  in  a  state  of  slavery  or  in  a  state  of  anarchy. 
Something  is  to  be  said  for  the  man  who  sacrifices  liberty 
to  preserve  order.  Something  is  to  be  said  for  the  man 
who  sacrifices  order  to  preserve  liberty.  For  liberty  and 
order  are  two  of  the  greatest  blessings  which  a  society  can 

♦See  the  Defence  of  the  Profession  which  the  Right  Reverend  Father  in  God,  Joha 
Lake,  Lord  Bishop  of  Chichester,  made  upon  his  Dcstfeb^^  Qonc^minf  PlMSiir«  Ub^ 
dience  and  the  New  Oaths,  16^0. 


352 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


enjoy;  and,  when  unfortunately  they  appear  to  be  incom- 
patible, much  indulgence  is  due  to  those  who  take  either 
side.  But  the  nonjuror  sacrificed,  not  liberty  to  order,  not 
order  to  libe4*ty,  but  both  liberty  and  order  to  a  supersti- 
tion as  stupid  and  degrading  as  the  Egyptian  worship  of 
oats  and  onions.  While  a  particular  person,  differing  from 
other  persons  by  the  mere  accident  of  birth,  was  on  the 
throne,  though  he  might  be  a  Nero,  there  was  to  be  no  in- 
subordination. When  any  other  person  was  on  the  throne,^ 
though  he  might  be  an  Alfred,  there  was  to  be  no  obedience. 
It  mattered  not  how  frantic  and  wicked  might  be  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  dynasty  which  had  the  hereditary  title, 
or*hQW  wise  and  virtuous  might  be  the  administration  of  a 
government  sprung  from  a  revolution.  Nor  could  any  time 
of  limitation  be  pleaded  against  the  claim  of  the  expelled 
family.  The  lapse  of  years,  the  lapse  of  ages,  made  no 
change.  To  the  end  of  the  world,  Christians  were  to  reg- 
ulate their  political  conduct  simply  according  to  the  pedi- 
gree of  their  ruler.  The  year  1800,  the  year  1900,  might 
find  princes  who  derived  their  title  from  the  votes  of  the 
Convention  reigning  in  peace  and  prosperity.  No  matter: 
they  would  still  be  usurpers;  and,  if,  in  the  twentieth  or 
twenty-first  century,  any  person  who  could  make  out  a 
better  title  by  blood  to  the  crown  should  call  on  a  late  pos- 
terity to  acknowledge  him  as  King,  the  call  must  be  obeyed 
on  peril  of  eternal  perdition, 

A  Whig  rnight  well  enjoy  the  thought  that  the  contro- 
versies which  had  arisen  among  his  adversaries  had  es- 
tablished the  soundness  of  his  own  political  creed.  The 
disputants,  who  had  long  agreed  in  accusing  him  of  an 
inipipus  error,. had  now  effectuaU  vindicated  him,  and  re- 
futed one  another.  The  High  Churchman  who  took  the 
oaths  had  shown  by  irrefragable  arguments  from  the  Gos- 
pels and  the  Epistles,  from  the  uniform  practice  of  the 
priniitive  Church,  and  from  the  explicit  declarations  of  the 
Anglican  Church,  that  Christians  were  not  in  all  cases 
bound  to  pay  obedience  to  the  prince  who  had  the  here- 
ditary title.  The  High  Churchman  w^ho  would  not  take 
the  oaths  had  shown  as  satisfactorily  that  Christians  were 
not  in  all  cases  bound  to  pay  obedience  to  the  prince  who 
was  actually  reigning.  It  followed  that,  to  entitle  a  govern- 
ment to  the  allegiance  of  subjects,  something  was  neces- 
sary different  from  mere  legitimacy,  and  different  also  from 
mer^  p0555^ssion.  Wh^t  that  something  was  the  Whigs  ha4 


WILLIAM  AND  MA&V. 


3S3 


no  difficulty  in  pronouncing.    In  their  view,  the  end  for 

which  all  governments  had  been  instituted  was  the  happi- 
ness of  society.  While  the  magistrate  was,  on  the  whole, 
notwithstanding  some  faults,  a  minister  for  good,  Reason 
taught  mankind  to  obey  him;  and  Religion,  giving  her 
solemn  sanction  to  the  teaching  of  Reason,  commanded 
mankind  to  revere  him  as  divinely  commissioned.  But  if 
he  proved  to  be  a  minister  for  evil,  on  what  grounds  was 
he  to  be  considered  as  divinely  commissioned?  The  Tories 
who  swore  had  proved  that  he  ought  not  to  be  so  con- 
sidered on  account  of  the  origin  of  his  power:  the  Tories 
who  would  not  swear  had  proved  as  clearly  that  he  ought 
not  to  be  so  considered  on  account  of  the  existence  of  his 
power. 

Some  violent  and  acrimonious  Whigs  triumphed  ostenta- 
tiously and  with  merciless  insolence  over  the  perplexed 
and  divided  priesthood.  The  nonjuror  they  generally  af- 
fected to  regard  with  contemptuous  pity  as  a  dull  and 
perverse,  but  sincere,  bigot,  whose  absurd  practice  was  in 
harmony  with  his  absurd  theory,  and  who  might  plead,  in 
excuse  for  the  infatuation  which  impelled  him  to  ruin  his 
country,  that  the  same  infatuation  had  impelled  him  to 
ruin  himself.  They  reserved  the  sharpest  taunts  for  those 
divines  who,  having,  in  the  days  of  the  Exclusion  Bill  and 
the  Rye  House  Plot,  been  distinguished  by  zeal  for  the 
divine  and  indefeasible  right  of  the  hereditary  Sovereign, 
were  now  ready  to  swear  fealty  to  an  usurper.  Was  this 
then  the  real  sense  of  all  those  sublime  phrases  which  had 
resounded  during  twenty-nine  years  from  innumerable 
pulpits?  Had  the  thousands  of  clergymen,  who  had  so 
loudly  boasted  of  the  unchangeable  loyalty  of  their  order, 
really  meant  only  that  their  loyalty  would  remain  un- 
changeable till  the  next  change  of  fortune?  It  was  idle,  it 
was  impudent  in  them  to  pretend  that  their  present  con- 
duct was  consistent  with  their  former  language.  If  any 
reverend  doctor  had  at  length  been  convinced  that  he  had 
been  in  the  wrong,  he  surely  ought,  by  an  open  recantation, 
to  make  all  the  amends  now  possible  to  the  persecuted,  the 
calumniated,  the  murdered  defenders  of  liberty.  If  he  was 
still  convinced  that  his  old  opinions  were  sound,  he  ought 
manfully  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  nonjuror.  Respect,  it 
was  said,  is  due  to  him  who  ingenuously  confesses  an  error: 
respect  is  due  to  him  who  courageously  suffers  for  an  error: 
but  it  is  difficult  to  respect  a  minister  of  religion,  who, 


liiSTORY  OF  ENOLAKt). 


while  asserting  that  he  still  adheres  to  the  principles  of 
the  Tories,  saves  a  benefice  by  taking  an  oath  which  can 
be  honestly  taken  only  on  the  principles  of  the  Whigs. 

These  reproaches,  though  perhaps  not  altogether  unjust, 
were  unseasonable.  The  wiser  and  more  moderate  Whigs, 
sensible  that  the  throne  of  William  could  not  stand  firm  if 
it  had  not  a  wider  basis  than  their  own  party,  abstained  at 
this  conjuncture  from  sneers  and  invectives,  and  exerted 
themselves  to  remove  the  scruples  and  to  soothe  the  irritated 
feelings  of  the  clergy.  The  collective  power  of  the  rectors 
and  vicars  of  England  was  immense;  and  it  was  much  better 
that  they  should  swear  for  the  most  flimsy  reason  which 
could  be  devised  by  a  sophist  than  that  they  should  not 
swear  at  all. 

It  soon  became  clear  that  the  arguments  for  swearing, 
backed  as  they  were  by  some  of  the  strongest  motives 
which  can  influence  the  human  mind,  had  prevailed.  Above 
twenty-nine  thirtieths  of  the  profession  submitted  to  the 
law.  Most  of  the  divines  of  the  capital,  who  then  formed 
a  separate  class,  and  who  were  as  much  distinguished  from 
the  rural  clergy  by  liberality  of  sentiment  as  by  eloquence 
and  learning,  gave  in  their  adhesion  to  the  government 
early,  and  with  every  sign  of  cordial  attachment.  Eighty 
of  them  repaired  together,  in  full  term,  to  Westminster 
Hall,  and  were  there  sworn.  The  ceremony  occupied  so 
long  a  time  that  little  else  was  done  that  day  in  the  Courts 
of  Chancery  and  King's  Bench.*  But  in  general  the  com- 
pliance was  tardy,  sad,  and  sullen.  Many,  no  doubt,  de- 
liberately violated  what  they  believed  to  be  their  duty. 
Conscience  told  them  that  they  were  committing  a  sin.  But 
they  had  not  fortitude  to  resign  the  parsonage,  the  garden, 
the  glebe,  and  to  go  forth  without  knowing  where  to  find 
a  meal  or  a  roof  for  themselves  and  their  little  ones. 
Many  swore  with  doubts  and  misgivings.f  Some  declared, 
at  the  moment  of  taking  the  oath,  that  they  did  not  mean 
to  promise  that  they  would  not  submit  to  James,  if  he 
should  ever  be  in  a  condition  to  demand  their  allegiance.  J 
Some  clergymen  in  the' North  were,  on  the  first  of  August, 
going  in  a  company  to  swear,  when  they  were  met  on  the 
road  by  the  news  of  the  battle  which  had  been  fought, 

♦London  Qazette,  June  30,  1689;  Luttrell's  Diary.    ''The  emincntcst   men,"  lays 

^"tsle^in  KettlewcU's  Life.  iii.  7«,  the  retractation  drawn  by  him  for  a  clergyman  who 
had  taken  the  oaths,  and  who  afterwards  repented  of  having  done  so. 

tSet  th«  account  of  Dr.  Dove's  conduct  in  Clarendon's  Diary,  and  the  account  of  Pr, 
Mail's  conduct  in  the  Life  of  Kettlewell. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


3SS 


four  days  before,  in  the  pass  cf  Killiecrankie.  They  im- 
mediately turned  back,  and  did  not  again  leave  their 
homes  on  the  same  errand  till  it  was  clear  that  Dundee's 
victory  had  made  no  change  in  the  state  of  public  affairs.* 
Even  of  those  whose  understandings  were  fully  convinced 
that  obedience  was  due  to  the  existing  government,  very 
few  kissed  the  book  with  the  heartiness  with  which  they 
had  formerly  plighted  their  faith  to  Charles  and  James. 
Still  the  thing  was  done.  Ten  thousand  clergymen  had 
solemnly  called  heaven  to  attest  their  promise  that  they 
would  be  true  liegemen  to  William;  and  this  promise, 
though  it  by  no  means  warranted  him  in  expecting  that 
they  would  strenuously  support  him,  had  at  least  deprived 
them  of  a  great  part  of  their  power  to  injure  him.  They 
could  not,  without  entirely  forfeiting  that  public  respect 
on  which  their  influence  depended,  attack,  except  in  an 
indirect  and  timidly  cautious  manner,  the  throne  of  one 
whom  they  had,  in  the  presence  of  God,  vowed  to  obey  as 
their  King.  Some  of  them,  it  is  true,  affected  to  read  the 
prayers  for  the  new  Sovereigns  in  a  peculiar  tone  which 
could  not  be  misunderstood. f  Others  were  guilty  of  still 
grosser  indecency.  Thus,  one  wretch,  just  after  praying 
for  William  and  Mary  in  the  most  solemn  office  of  religion, 
took  off  a  glass  to  their  damnation.  Another,  after  per- 
forming divine  service  on  a  fast  day  appointed  by  their 
authority,  dined  on  a  pigeon  pie,  and  while  he  cut  it  up, 
uttered  a  wish  that  it  was  the  usurper's  heart.  But  such 
audacious  wickedness  was  doubtless  rare  and  was  injurious 
rather  to  the  Church  than  to  the  government.^ 

Those  clergymen  and  members  of  the  Universities  who 
incurred  the  penalties  of  the  law  were  about  four  hundred 
in  number.  Foremost  in  rank  stood  the  Primate  and  six 
of  his  suffragans.  Turner  of  Ely,  Lloyd  of  Norwich, 
Frampton  of  Gloucester,  Lake  of  Chichester,  White  of 
Peterborough,  and  Ken  of  Bath  and  Wells.  Thomas  of 
Worcester  would  have  made  a  seventh:  but  he  died  three 
weeks  before  the  day  of  suspension.  On  his  deathbed  he 
adjured  his  clergy  to  be  true  to  the  cause  of  hereditary 
right,  and  declared  that  those  divines  who  tried  to  make 
out  that  the  oaths  might  be  taken  without  any  departure 
from  the  loyal  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  England  seemed 

♦The  Auatomy  of  a  Jacobite  Tory,  1690. 
tDUlogue  between  a  Whi^  and  a  Tory. 
ILttttrelVs  Diaty,  November,       ^ftWiwy,  1691. 


356 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


to  him  to  reason  more  Jesuitically  than  the  Jesuits  them- 
selves.* 

Ken,  who,  both  in  intellectual  and  in  moral  qualities, 
ranked  highest  among  the  nonjuring  prelates,  hesitated 
long.  There  were  few  clergymen  who  could  have  submit- 
ted to  the  new  government  with  a  better  grace.  For,  when 
non-resistance  and  passive  obedience  were  the  favorite 
themes  of  his  brethren,  he  had  scarcely  ever  alluded  to 
politics  in  the  pulpit.  He  owned  that  the  arguments  in 
favor  of  swearing  were  very  strong.  He  went  indeed  so 
far  as  to  say  that  his  scruples  would  be  completely  re- 
moved, if  he  could  be  convinced  that  James  had  entered 
into  engagements  for  ceding  Ireland  to  the  French  King. 
It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  difference  between  Ken  and 
the  Whigs  was  not  a  difference  of  principle.  He  thought, 
with  them,  that  misgovernment,  carried  to  a  certain  point, 
justified  a  transfer  of  allegiance,  and  doubted  only  whether 
the  misgovernment  of  James  had  been  carried  quite  to  that 
point.  Nay,  the  good  Bishop  actually  began  to  prepare  a 
pastoral  letter  explaining  his  reasons  for  taking  the  oaths. 
But,  before  it  was  finished,  he  received  information  which 
convinced  him  that  Ireland  had  not  been  made  over  to 
France:  doubts  came  thick  upon  him:  he  threw  his  un- 
finished letter  into  the  fire,  and  implored  his  less  scrupu- 
lous friends  not  to  urge  him  further.  He  was  sure,  he 
said,  that  they  had  acted  uprightly:  he  was  glad  that  they 
could  do  with  a  clear  conscience  what  he  shrank  from  do- 
ing: he  felt  the  force  of  their  reasoning:  he  was  all  but 
persuaded;  and  he  was  afraid  to  listen  longer  lest  he 
should  be  quite  persuaded:  for,  if  he  should  comply,  and 
his  misgivings  should  afterwards  return,  he  should  be  the 
most  miserable  of  men.  Not  for  wealth,  not  for  a  palace, 
not  for  a  peerage,  would  he  run  the  smallest  risk  of  ever 
feeling  the  torments  of  remorse.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that, 
of  the  seven  nonjuring  prelates,  the  only  one  whose  name 
carries  with  it  much  weight  was  on  the  point  of  swearing, 
and  was  prevented  from  doing  so,  as  he  himself  acknowl- 
edged, not  by  the  force  of  reason,  but  by  a  morbid  scrupu- 
losity which  he  did  not  advise  others  to  imitate. f 

♦Life  of  Kettlewell,  iii.  4. 

tSee  Turner's  Letter  to  Sancroft,  dated  on  Ascension  Day,  1689.  The  original  is 
among  the  Tanner  MSB.  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  But  the  letter  will  be  found,  with 
much  other  carious  matter,  in  the  Life  of  Ken  by  a  Layman,  lately  published.  See  also 
the  Life  of  Kettlewell,  iii.  95;  and  Ken's  Letter  to  Burnet,  dated  October  <,  1689,  in 
Hawkin's  Life  of  K^n.  am  sure,'*  Lady  Russell  wrote  to  Dr.  Fitzwilliara, ''the 
Bishop  of  Batk  aad  Wells  cxaite4  others  to  comply,  when  be  could  not  briag  hioUtU  to 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


357 


Among  the  priests  who  refused  the  oaths  were  some  men 
eminent  in  the  learned  world,  as  grammarians,  chronolo- 
gists,  canonists,  and  antiquaries,  and  a  very  few  who  were 
distinguished  by  wit  and  eloquence;  but  scarcely  one  can  be 
named  who  was  qualified  to  discuss  any  large  question  of 
morals  or  politics,  scarcely  one  whose  writings  do  not  in- 
dicate cither  extreme  feeble-ness  or  extreme  flightiness  of 
mind.  Those  who  distrust  the  judgment  of  a  Whig  on 
this  point  will  probably  allow  some  weight  to  the  opinion 
which  was  expressed,  many  years  after  the  Revolution,  by 
a  philosopher  of  whom  the  Tories  are  justly  proud.  John- 
son, after  passing  in  review  the  celebrated  divines  who 
had  thought  it  sinful  to  swear  allegiance  to  William  the 
Third  and  George  the  First,  pronounced  that,  in  the 
whole  body  of  nonjurors^  there  was  one,  and  one  only, 
who  could  reason.* 

The  nonjuror  in  whose  favor  Johnson  made  this  excep- 
tion was  Charles  Leslie.  Leslie  had,  before  the  Revo- 
lution, been  Chancellor  of  the  diocese  of  Connor  in  Ireland. 
He  had  been  forward  in  opposition  to  Tyrconnel;  had,  as 
a  justice  of  the  peace  for  Monaghan,  refused  to  acknowl- 
edge a  papist  as  sheriff  of  that  county;  and  had  been  so 
courageous  as  to  send  some  officers  of  the  Irish  army  to 
prison  for  marauding.  But  the  doctrine  of  non-resistance, 
such  as  it  had  been  taught  by  Anglican  divines  in  the  days 

do  so,  but  rejoiced  when  others  did."  Ken  declared  that  he  had  advised  nobody  to  take 
the  oaths,  and  that  his  practice  had  been  to  remit  those  who  asked  his  advice  to  their 
own  studies  and  prayers.  Lady  Russell's  assertion  and  Ken's  denial  will  be  found  to 
come  nearly  to  the  same  thing,  when  we  make  those  allowances  which  ought  to  be  made 
for  situation  and  feeling,  even  in  weighing  the  testimony  of  the  most  veracious  witnesses. 
Ken,  having  at  last  determined  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  nonjurors,  naturally  tried 
to  vindicate  his  consistency  as  far  as  he  honestly  could.  Lady  Russell,  wishing  to  in- 
duce her  friend  to  take  the  oaths,  naturally  made  as  much  of  Ken's  disposition  to  com- 
pliance as  she  honestly  could.  She  went  too  far  in  using  the  word  "excited."  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  clear  that  Ken,  by  remitting  those  who  consulted  him  to  their  own 
studies  and  prayers,  gave  them  to  understand  that,  in  his  opinion,  the  oath  was  lawful  to 
those  who,  after  a  serious  inquiry,  thought  it  lawful.  If  people  had  asked  him  whether 
they  might  lawfully  commit  perjury  or  adultery,  he  would  assuredly  have  told  them,  not 
to  consider  the  point  maturely  and  to  implore  the  divine  direction,  but  to  abstain  on 
peril  of  their  souls. 

*See  the  conversation  of  June  9,  1784,  in  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  and  the  note, 
Boswell,  with  his  usual  absurdity,  is  sure  that  Johnson  could  not  have  recollected  *'that 
the  seven  bishops,  so  justly  celebrated  for  their  magnanimous  resistance  to  arbitrary 
power,  were  yet  nonjurors."  Only  five  of  the  seven  were  nonjurors:  and  anybody  but 
JBoswell  would  have  known  that  a  man  may  resist  arbitrary  power,  and  yet  not  be  a  good 
Tcasoner.  Nay,  the  resistance  which  Sancroft  and  the  other  nonjuring  bishops  offered  to 
arbitrary  power,  while  they  continued  to  hold  the  doctrine  of  non-resistance,  is  the  most 
•decisive  proof  that  they  were  incapable  of  reasoning.  It  must  be  remembered  that  they 
v^ere  prepared  to  take  the  whole  kingly  power  from  James,  and  to  bestow  it  on  William, 
w'th  the  title  of  Regent.    Their  scruple  was  merely  about  the  word  King. 

I  am  surprised  that  Johnson  should  have  pronounced  William  Law  no  reasoner.  Law 
did  indeed  fall  into  great  errors;  but  they  were  errors  against  which  logic  affords  no  se- 
curity. In  mere  dialectical  skill  he  had  very  few  superiors.  That  he  was  more  than 
once  victorious  over  Hoadley  no  candid  Whig  will  deny.  But  Law  did  not  belong  to 
the  generation  with  which  I  have  now  to  do. 


358 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


of  the  Rye  House  Plot,  was  immovably  fixed  in  his  mind. 
When  the  state  of  Ulster  became  such  that  a  Protestant 
who  remained  there  could  hardly  avoid  being  either  a 
rebel  or  a  martyr,  Leslie  fled  to  London.  His  abilities 
and  his  connections  were  such  that  he  might  easily  have 
obtained  high  preferment  in  the  Church  of  England.  But 
he  took  his  place  in  the  front  rank  of  the  Jacobite  body, 
and  remained  there  steadfastly  through  all  the  dangers 
and  vicissitudes  of  three  and  thirty  troubled  years.  Though 
constantly  engaged  in  theological  controversy  with  Deists, 
Jews,  Socinians,  Presbyterians,  Papists,  and  Quakers,  he 
found  time  to  be  one  of  the  most  voluminous  political 
writers  of  his  age.  Of  all  the  nonjuring  clergy  he  was  the 
best  qualified  to  discuss  constitutional  questions.  For, 
before  he  had  taken  orders,  he»  had  resided  long  in  the 
Temple,  and  had  been  studying  English  history  and  law, 
while  most  of  the  other  chiefs  of  the  schism  had  been 
poring  over  the  Acts  of  Chalcedon,  or  seeking  for  wisdom 
in  the  Targum  of  Onkelos.* 

In  1689,  however,  Leslie  was  almost  unknown  in  England. 
Among  the  divines  who  incurred  suspicion  on  the  first  of 
August  in  that  year,  the  highest  in  popular  estimation  was 
without  dispute  Doctor  William  Sherlock.  Perhaps  no 
simple  Presbyter  of  the  Church  of  England  has  ever  pos- 
sessed a  greater  authority  over  his  brethren  than  belonged 
to  Sherlock  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  not 
of  the  first  rank  among  his  contemporaries  as  a  scholar, 
as  a  preacher,  as  a  writer  on  theology,  or  as  a  writer 
on  politics:  but  in  all  the  four  characters  he  had  dis- 
tinguished himself.  The  perspicuity  and  liveliness  of 
his  style  have  been  praised  by  Prior  and  Addison.  The 
facility  and  assiduity  with  which  he  wrote  are  sufficiently 
proved  by  the  bulk  and  the  dates  of  his  works.  There  were, 
indeed,  among  the  clergy  men  of  brighter  genius  and  men 
of  wider  attainments:  but  during  a  long  period  there  was 
none  who  more  completely  represented  the  order,  none 
who,  on  all  subjects,  spoke  more  precisely  the  sense 
of  the  Anglican  priesthood,  without  any  taint  of  Latitudi- 
narianism,  of  Puritanism,  or  of  Popery.  He  had,  in  the 
days  of  the  Exclusion  Bill,  when  the  power  of  the  dis- 
senters  was  very  great  in  Parliament  and  in  the  coun- 
try, written  strongly  against  the  sin  of  non-conformity. 
When  the  Rye  House  Plot  was  detected,  he  had  zealously 


♦Ware's  Hiitory  of  the  Writers  of  Ireland,  continued  by  Harris. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY.  359 

defended  by  tongue  and  pen  the  doctrine  of  non-resistance. 
His  services  to  the  cause  of  episcopacy  and  monarchy 
were  so  highly  valued  that  he  was  made  Master  of  the 
Temple.  A  pension  was  also  bestowed  on  him  by  Charles: 
but  that  pension  James  soon  took  away:  for  Sherlock, 
though  he  held  himself  bound  to  pay  passive  obedience  to 
the  civil  power,  held  himself  equally  bound  to  combat  re- 
ligious errors,  and  was  the  keenest  and  most  laborious  of 
that  host  of  controversialists  who,  in  the  day  of  peril,  man- 
fully defended  the  P.rotestant  faith.  In  little  more  than 
two  years  he  published  sixteen  treatises,  some  of  them 
large  books,  against  the  high  pretensions  of  Rome.  Not 
content  with  the  easy  victories  which  he  gained  over  such 
feeble  antagonists  as  those  who  were  quartered  at  Clerk- 
enwell  and  the  Savoy,  he  had  the  courage  to  measure  his 
strength  with  no  less  a  champion  than  Bossuet,  and  came 
out  of  the  conflict  without  discredit.  Nevertheless  Sher- 
lock still  continued  to  maintain  that  no  oppression  could  jus- 
tify Christians  in  resisting  the  kingly  authority.  When  the 
Convention  was  about  to  meet,  he  strongly  recommended, 
in  a  tract  which  was  considered  as  the  manifesto  of  a  large 
part  of  the  clergy,  that  James  should  be  invited  to  return 
on  such  conditions  as  might  secure  the  laws  and  religion  of 
the  nation.*  The  vote  which  placed  William  and  Mary 
on  the  throne  filled  Sherlock  with  sorrow  and  anger.  He 
is  said  to  have  exclaimed  that  if  the  Convention  was  de- 
termined on  a  revolution,  the  clergy  would  find  forty 
thousand  good  Churchmen  to  effect  a  restoration. f  Against 
new  oaths  he  gave  his  opinion  plainly  and  warmly.  He 
professed  himself  at  a  loss  to  understand  how  any  honest 
man  could  doubt  that,  by  the  powers  that  be.  Saint  Paul 
meant  legitimate  powers  and  no  others.  No  name  was,  in 
1689,  cited  by  the  Jacobites  more  proudly  or  more  fondly 
than  that  of  Sherlock.  Before  the  end  of  1690  that  name 
excited  very  different  feelings. 

A  few  other  nonjurors  ought  to  be  particularly  noticed. 
High  among  them  in  rank  was  George  Hickes,  Dean  of 
Worcester.  Of  all  the  Englishmen  of  his  time  he  was  the 
most  versed  in  the  old  Teutonic  languages;  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  early  Christian  literature  was  extensive.  As 
to  his  capacity  for  political  discussions, it  maybe  sufficient 
to  say  that  his  favorite  argument  for  passive  obedience  was 


*  Letter  to  a  member  of  the  \^onvention,  1689. 

t Johnson's  Notes  oa  th«  Phoraix  Edition  of  Burnet's  Pastoral  L«tt«r, 


360 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


drawn  from  the  story  of  the  Theban  legion.  He  was  the 
younger  brother  of  that  unfortunate  John  Hickes  who  had 
been  found  hidden  in  the  malthouse  of  Alice  Lisle.  James 
had,  in  spite  of  all  solicitation,  put  both  John  Hickes  and 
A-lice  Lisle  to  death.  Persons  who  did  not  know  the 
strength  of  the  Dean's  principles  thought  that  he  might 
possibly  feel  some  resentment  on  this  account:  for  he  wa^ 
of  no  gentle  or  forgiving  temper,  and  aould  retain  during 
many  years  a  bitter  remembrance  of  small  injuries.  But 
he  was  strong  in  his  religious  and  political  faith;  he  re- 
flected that  the  sufferers  were  dissenters;  and  he  submitted 
to  the  will  of  the  Lord's  Anointed,  not  only  with  patience 
but  with  complacency.  He  became,  indeed,  a  more  loving 
subject  than  ever  from  the  time  when  his  brother  was 
hanged  and  his  brother's  benefactress  beheaded.  While 
almost  all  other  clergymen,  appalled  by  the  Declaration  of 
Indulgence  and  by  the  proceedings  of  the  High  Commis- 
sion, were  beginning  to  think  that  they  had  pushed  the 
doctrine  of  non-resistance  a  little  too  far,  he  was  writing  a 
vindication  of  his  darling  legend,  and  trying  to  convince 
the  troops  at  Hounslow  that,  if  James  should  be  pleased  to 
massacre  them  all,  as  Maximian  had  massacred  the  The- 
ban legion,  for  refusing  to  commit  idolatry,  it  would  be 
their  duty  to  pile  their  arms,  and  meekly  to  receive  the 
crown  of  martyrdom.  To  do  Hickes  justice,  his  whole  con- 
duct after  the  Revolution  proved  that  his  servility  had 
sprung  neither  from  fear  nor  from  cupidity,  but  from  mere 
bigotry.* 

Jeremy  Collier,  who  was  turned  out  of  the  preachership 
of  the  Rolls,  was  a  man  of  a  much  higher  order.  He  is 
well  entitled  to  grateful  and  respectful  mention  :  for  to  his 
eloquence  and  courage  is  to  be  chiefly  ascribed  the  purifi- 
cation of  our  lighter  literature  from  that  foul  taint  which 
had  been  contracted  during  the  Antipuritan  reaction.  He 
was,  in  the  full  force  of  the  words,  a  good  man.  He  was 
also  a  man  of  eminent  abilities,  a  great  master  of  sarcasm, 
a  great  master  of  rhetoric.f  His  reading  too,  though  un- 
digested, was  of  immense  extent.    But  his  mind  was  nar- 


♦  The  best  notion  of  Hickes's  character  will  be  formed  from  his  numerous  controver- 
sial writings,  particularly  his  Jovian,  written  in  1684,  his  Thebsean  Legion  no  Fable, 
written  in  1687,  though  not  published  till  1714,  and  his  Discourses  upon  Dr.  Burnet  and 
Dr.  Tillotson,  1695.    His  literary  fame  rests  on  works  of  a  very  different  kind. 

t  Collier's  Tracts  on  the  Stage  are,  on  the  whole,  his  best  pieces.  But  there  is  much 
that  is  striking  in  his  political  pamphlets.  His  Persuasive  to  Consideration,  tendered 
to  the  Royalists,  particularly  those  of  the  Church  of  England,"  »€«n«  to  me  oa«  of  tlie 
b€St  productions  of  the  JacoDiie  press. 


\^  WILLIAM  AND  MARY.  361 

row:  his  feasoning,  even  when  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
have  a  good  cause  to  defend,  was  singularly  futile  and  in- 
conclusive; and  his  brain  was  almost  turned  by  pride,  not 
personal,  but  professional.  In  his  view,  a  priest  was  the 
highest  of  human  beings,  except  a  bishop.  Reverence  and 
submission  were  due  from  the  best  and  greatest  of  the 
laity  to  the  least  respectable  of  the  clergy.  However  ri- 
diculous a  man  in  holy  orders  might  make  himself,  it  was 
impiety  to  laugh  at  him.  So  nervously  sensitive  indeed 
was  Collier  on  this  point  that  he  thought  it  profane  to 
throw  any  reflection  even  on  the  ministers  of  false  religions. 
He  laid  it  down  as  a  rule  that  Muftis  and  Augurs  ought 
always  to  be  mentioned  with  respect.  He  blamed  Dryden 
for  sneering  at  the  Hierophants  of  Apis.  He  praised  Ra- 
cine for  giving  dignity  to  the  character  of  a  priest  of  Baal. 
He  praised  Corneille  for  not  bringing  that  learned  and  re- 
verend divine  Tiresias  on  the  stage  in  the  tragedy  of  CEdi- 
pus.  The  omission.  Collier  owned,  spoiled  the  dramatic 
effect  of  the  piece:  but  the  holy  function  was  much  too 
solemn  to  be  played  with.  Nay,  incredible  as  it  may  seem, 
he  thought  it  improper  in  the  laity  to  sneer  even  at  Pi'es- 
byterian  preachers.  Indeed  his  Jacobitism  was  little  more 
than  one  of  the  forms  in  which  his  zeal  for  the  dignity  of 
his  profession  manifested  itself.  He  abhorred  the  Revolu- 
tion less  as  a  rising  up  of  subjects  against  their  King  than 
as  a  rising  up  of  the  laity  against  the  sacerdotal  caste. 
The  doctrines  which  had  been  proclaimed  from  the  pulpit 
during  thirty  years  had  ,been  treated  with  contempt  by  the 
Convention.  A  new  government  had  been  set  up  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  vv^ishes  of  the  spiritual  peers  in  the  House  of 
Lords  and  of  the  priesthood  throughout  the  country.  A 
secular  assembly  had  taken  upon  itself  to  pass  a  law  r&- 
quiring  archbishops  and  bishops,  rectors  and  vicars,  to  ab- 
jure, on  pain  of  deprivation,  what  they  had  heen  teaching 
all  their  lives.  Whatever  meaner  spirits  might  do.  Collier 
was  determined  not  to  be  led  in  triumph  by  the  victorious 
enemies  of  his  order.  To  the  last  he  would  confront,  with 
the  authoritative  port  of  an  ambassador  of  heaven,  the 
anger  of  the  powers  and  principalities  of  the  earth. 

In  parts  Collier  was  the  first  man  among  the  nonjurors. 
In  erudition  the  first  place  must  be  assigned  to  Henry 
Dodwell,  who,  for  the  unpardonable  crime  of  having  a 
small  estate  in  Mayo,  had  been  attainted  by  the  Popish 
Parliament  at  Dublin.    He  was  Camdenian  Professor  of 


MlStORY  OF  ENGLAM0. 


Ancient  History  in  the  University  of  Oxford,  and  had  aU 
ready  acquired  considerable  celebrity  by  chronological 
and  geographical  researches;  but  though  he  never  could 
be  persuaded  to  take  orders,  theology  was  his  favorite 
study.  He  was  doubtless  a  pious  and  sincere  man.  He 
had  perused  innumerable  volumes  in  various  languages, 
and  had  indeed  acquired  more  learning  than  his  slender 
faculties  were  able  to  bear.  The  small  intellectual  spark 
which  he  possessed  was  put  out  by  the  fuel.  Some  of  his 
books  seem  to  have  been  written  in  a  madhouse,  and, 
though  filled  with  proofs  of  his  immense  reading,  degrade 
him  to  the  level  of  James  Naylor  and  Ludowick  Muggle- 
ton.  He  began  a  dissertation  intended  to  prove  that  the 
law  of  nations  was  a  divine  revelation  made  to  the  family 
which  was  preserved  in  the  ark.  He  published  a  treatise 
in  which  he  maintained  that  a  marriage  between  a  member 
of  the  Church  of  England  and  a  dissenter  was  a  nullity, 
and  that  the  couple  were  in  the  sight  of  heaven  guilty  of 
adultery.  He  defended  the  use  of  instrumental  music  in 
public  worship  on  the  ground  that  the  notes  of  the  organ 
had  a  power  to  counteract  the  influence  of  devils  on  the 
spinal  marrow  of  human  beings.  In  his  treatise  on  this 
subject  he  remarked  that  there  was  high  authority  for  the 
opinion  that  the  spinal  marrow,  when  decomposed,  be- 
came a  serpent.  Whether  this  opinion  were  or  were  not 
correct,  he  thought  it  unnecessary  to  decide.  Perhaps,  he 
said,  the  eminent  men  in  whose  works  it  was  found  had 
meant  only  to  express  figuratively  the  great  truth,  that 
the  Old  Serpent  operates  on  us  chiefly  through  the  spinal 
marrow.*  Dodwell's  speculations  on  the  state  of  human 
beings  after  death  are,  if  possible,  more  ext!  aordinary  still. 
He  tells  us  that  our  souls  are  naturally  mortal.  Annihila- 
tion is  the  fate  of  the  greater  part  of  mankind,  of  heathens^ 
of  Mahometans,  of  unchristened  babes.  The  gift  of  im- 
mortality is  conveyed  in  the  sacrament  of  baptism:  but  to 
the  efficacy  of  the  sacrament  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
that  the  water  be  poured  and  the  words  pronounced  by  a 
minister  who  has  been  ordained  by  a  bishop.  In  the 
natural  course  of  things,  therefore,  all  Presbyterians,  In- 

*  See  Brokcsby's  Life  of  Dodwell.  The  Discourse  against  Marriage  in  different 
Communions  is  known  to  me,  I  ought  to  say,  only  from  Brokesby's  copious  abstract. 
That  Discourse  is  very  rare.  It  was  originally  priated  as  an  appendage  to  a  sermou 
preached  by  Leslie.  When  Leslie  collected  his  works  he  omitted  the  Discourse,  proba- 
bly because  he  was  ashamed  of  it.  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  it  in  the  Library  ^  the 
British  Ntufcun.    The  Tr«atia«  oa  th*  LAwfulncM  of  Instrumeiital  Music  I  havi  >d; 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


dependents,  Baptists,  and  Quakers  would,  like  the  inferior 
animals,  cease  to  exist.  But  Dodwell  was  far  too  good  a 
churchman  to  let  off  dissenters  so  easily.  He  informs 
them  that,  as  they  have  had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  the 
Gospel  preached,  and  might,  but  for  their  own  perverse- 
ness,  have  received  episcopalian  baptism,  God  will,  by  a 
preternatural  act  of  power,  bestow  immortality  on  them 
in  order  that  they  may  be  tormented  for  ever  and  ever.* 

No  man  abhorred  the  growing  latitudinarianism  of  those 
times  more  than  Dodwell.  Yet  no  man  had  more  reason 
to  rejoice  in  it.  For,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  a  speculator  who  had  dared  to  affirm  that  the  hu- 
man soul  is  by  its  nature  mortal,  and  does,  in  the  great 
majority  of  cases,  actually  die  with  the  body,  would  have 
been  burned  alive  in  Smithfield.  Even  in  days  which 
Dodwell  could  well  remember,  such  heretics  as  himself 
would  have  been  thought  fortunate  if  they  escaped  with 
life,  their  backs  flayed,  their  ears  clipped,  their  noses  slit, 
their  tongues  bored  through  with  red  hot  iron,  and  their 
eyes  knocked  out  with  brickbats.  With  the  nonjurors, 
however,  the  author  of  this  theory  was  still  the  great  Mr. 
Dodwell;  and  some  who  thought  it  culpable  lenity  to  tol- 
erate a  Presbyterian  meeting,  thought  it  at  the  same  time 
gross  illiberality  to  blame  a  learned  and  pious  Jacobite 
for  denying  a  doctrine  so  utterly  unimportant  in  a  re- 
ligious point  of  view  as  that  of  the  immortality  of  the 
soul.f 

Two  other  nonjurors  deserve  special  mention,  less  on 
account  of  their  abilities  and  learning,  than  on  account  of 
their  rare  integrity,  and  of  their  not  less  rare  candor. 
These  were  John  Kettlewell,  Rector  of  Coleshill,  and  John 
Fitzwilliam,  Canon  of  Windsor.  It  is  remarkable  that 
both  these  men  had  seen  much  of  Lord  Russell,  and  that 
both,  though  differing  from  him  in  political  opinions,  and 
strongly  disapproving  the  part  which  he  had  taken  in  the 
Whig  plot,  had  thought  highly  of  his  character,  and  had 
been  sincere  mourners  for  his  death.    He  had  sent  to 


♦  Dodwell  tells  us  that  the  title  of  the  work  in  which  he  first  promulgated  this  theory 
was  framed  with  great  care  and  precision.    I  will  therefore  transcribe  the  title  page: 

An  Epistolary  Discourse  proving  from  Scripture  and  the  First  Fathers  that  the  Soul 
is  naturally  Mortal,  Immortalized  actually  by  the  Pleasure  of  God  to  Punishment  or  to 
Reward,  by  its  Union  with  the  Divine  Baptismal  Spirit,  wherein  is  proved  that  none 
have  the  Power  of  giving  this  Divine  Immortalizing  Spirit  since  the  Apostles  but  only 
the  Bishops.  By  H.  Dodwell."  Dr.  Clarke,  in  a  letter  to  Dodwell  (1706),  says  that 
this  Epistolary  Discourse  is  a  book  at  which  all  good  men  are  sorry,  and  all  profane 
jmen  rejoice."  • 

t  See  LejiU^'s  Rebearsals,  No.  386,  387. 


3^4 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


Kettlewell  an  dffectionate  message  from  the  scaffold  in 
Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  Lady  Russell,  to  her  latest  day, 
loved,  trusted,  and  revered  Fitzwilliam,  who,  when  she 
was  a  girl,  had  been  the  friend  of  her  father,  the  virtuous 
Southampton.  The  two  clergymen  agreed  i-n  refusing  to 
swear:  but  they,  from  that  moment,  took  different  paths. 
Kettlewell  w^as  one  of  the  most  active  members  of  his 
party:  he  declined  no  drudgery  in  the  common  cause,  pro^ 
vided  only  that  it  were  such  drudgery  as  did  not  misbecome 
an  honest  man;  and  he  defended  his  opinions  in  several 
tracts,  which  give  a  much  higher  notion  of  his  sincerity 
than  of  his  judgment  or  acuteness.*  Fitzwilliam  thought 
that  he  had  done  enough  in  quitting  his  pleasant  dwelling 
and  garden  under  the  shadow  of  Saint  George's  Chapel, 
and  in  betaking  himself  wiih  his  books  to  a  small  lodging 
in  an  attic.  He  could  not  with  a  safe  conscience  acknowl- 
edge William  and  Mary:  but  he  did  not  conceive  that  he  was 
bound  to  be  always  stirring  up  sedition  against  them;  and 
he  passed  the  last  years  of  his  life,  under  the  powerful  pro- 
tection of  the  House  of  Bedford,  in  innocent  and  studious 
repose.f 

Among  the  less  distinguished  divines  who  forfeited  their 
benefices,  were  doubtless  many  good  men:  but  it  is  certain 
that  the  moral  character  of  the  nonjurors,  as  a  class,  did 
not  stand  high.  It  seems  hard  to  impute  laxity  of  prin- 
ciple to  persons  who  undoubtedly  made  a  great  sacrifice 
to  principle.  And  yet  experience  abundantly  proves  that 
many  who  are  capable  of  making  a  great  sacrifice,  when 
their  blood  is  heated  by  conflict,  and  when  the  public 
eye  is  fixed  upon  them,  are  not  capable. of  persevering 
long  in  the  daily  practice  of  obscure  virtues.  It  is  by 
no  means  improbable  that  zealots  may  have  given  their 
lives  for  a  religion  which  had  never  effectually  restrained 
their  vindictive  or  their  licentious  passions.  We  learn  in- 
deed from  fathers  of  the  highest  authority  that,  even  in 
the  purest  ages  of  the  Church,  some  confessors,  who  had 
manfully  refused  to  save  themselves  from  torments  and 
death  by  throwing  frankincense  on  the  altar  of  Jupiter, 
afterwards  brought  scandal  on  the  Christian  name  by  gross 

♦  See  his  works,  and  the  highly  curious  life  of  him  which  was  compiled  from  the  papers 
of  his  friends  Hickes  and  Nelson. 

t  See  Fitzwilliam's  correspondence  with  Lady  Russell,  and  his  evidence  on  the  trial  of 
Ashton,  in  the  State  Trials.  The  only  work  which  Fitzwilliam,  as  far  as  I  have  been 
able  to  discover,  ever  published  was  a  sermon  on  the  Rye  House  Plot,  preached  a  few 
weeks  tffter  Russell's  execution.  There  are  some  sentences  in  this  sermon  whidi  I  a  lit-. 
|1«  wonder  that  the  widow  and  the  family  forgave.  .  ^ 


WILLUM  AND  MARY. 


fraud  and  debauchery  *  For  the  nonjuring  divines  great 
allowance  must  in  fairness  be  made.  They  were  doubtless 
in  a  most  trying  situation.  In  general,  a  schism,  which 
divides  a  religious  community,  divides  the  laity  as  well  as 
the  clergy.  The  seceding  pastors,  therefore,  carry  with  them 
a  large  part  of  their  flocks,  and  are  consequently  assured 
of  a  maintenance.  But  the  schism  of  1689  scarcely  ex- 
tended beyond  the  clergy.  The  law  required  the  rector 
to  take  the  oaths,  or  to  quit  his  living;  but  no  oath,  no 
acknowledgment  of  the  title  of  the  new  King  and  Queen, 
was  required  from  the  parishioner  as  a  qualification  for 
attending  divine  service,  or  for  receiving  the  Eucharist. 
Not  one  in  fifty,  therefore,  of  those  laymen  who  disapproved 
of  the  Revolution  thought  himself  bound  to  quit  his  pew 
in  the  old  church,  where  the  old  liturgy  was  still  read,  and 
where  the  old  vestments  were  still  worn,  and  to  follow  the 
ejected  priests  to  a  conventicle,  a  conventicle,  too,  which 
was  not  protected  by  the  Toleration  Act.  Thus  the  new 
sect  was  a  sect  of  preachers  without  hearers;  and  such 
preachers  could  not  make  a  livelihood  by  preaching.  In 
London,  indeed,  and  in  some  other  large  towns,  those 
vehement  Jacobites,  whom  nothing  would  satisfy  but  to 
hear  King  James  and  the  Prince  of  Wales  prayed  for  by 
name,  were  sufiiciently  numerous  to  make  up  a  few  small 
congregations,  which  met  secretly  and  under  constant  fear 
of  the  constables,  in  rooms  so  mean  that  the  meeting 
houses  of  the  Puritan  dissenters  might  by  comparison  be 
called  palaces.  Even  Collier,  who  had  all  the  qualities 
which  attract  large  audiences,  was  reduced  to  be  the  min- 
ister of  a  little  knot  of  malecontents,  whose  oratory  was  on 
a  second  floor  in  the  city.  But  the  nonjuring  clergymen 
who  were  able  to  obtain  even  a  pittance  by  officiating  at 
such  places,  were  very  few.  Of  the  rest  some  had  inde- 
pendent means :  some  lived  by  literature :  one  or  two  prac- 
tised physic.  Thomas  WagstafFe,  for  example,  who  had 
been  Chancellor  of  Litchfield,  had  many  patients,  and 
made  himself  conspicuous  by  always  visiting  them  in  full 

*  Cyprian,  in  one  of  his  Epistles,  addresses  the  confessors  thus :  "  Quosdam  audio  in- 
ficere  numerum  vestrum,  et  laudem  praecipui  nominis  prava  sua  conversatione  destruere.  •  . 
Cum  quanto  nominis  vestri  pudore  delinquitur  quando  alius  aiiquis  temulentus  et  lasci* 
viens  demoratur  ;  alius  in  earn  patriam  unde  extorris  est  regreditur,  ut  deprehenstts  non 
jam  quasi  Christianas,  sed  quasi  nocens  pereat.**  He  uses  still  stronger  language  in  th« 
book  de  Unitate  Ecclesiae;  '*  Neque  enim  confessio  immunem  facit  ab  msidiis  diaboli^  aut 
contra  tentationes  et  pericula  ct  incursus  atque  impetus  sseculares  adhuc  in  saeculo  positura 
perpetua  securitate  defendit ;  caeterum  nunquam  in  confessoribus  fraudes  et  stupra  et 
adulteria  postmodilin  videremus,  qu»  nunc  in  quibutdasi  vidente*  ingemisdmus  «t 


366 


HISTORY  OF  KNOLANXI. 


canonicals,*     But   these    were    exceptions.  In^Hstrions 

poverty  is  a  state  by  no  means  unfavorable  to  virtue :  but 
it  is  dangerous  to  be  at  once  poor  and  idle ;  and  most  of 
the  clergymen  who  had  refused  to  swear  found  themselves 
thrown  on  the  world,  with  nothing  to  eat  and  with  nothing  to 
do.  They  naturally  became  beggars  and  loungers.  Con- 
sidering themselves  as  martyrs  suffering  in  a  public  cause, 
they  were  not  ashamed  to  ask  any  good  churchman  for  a 
guinea.  Most  of  them  passed  their  lives  in  running  about 
from  one  Tory  coffee-house  to  another,  abusing  the  Dutch, 
hearing  and  spreading  reports  that  within  a  month  His 
Majesty  would  certainly  be  on  English  ground,  and  won- 
dering who  would  have  Salisbury  when  Burnet  was  hanged. 
During  the  Session  of  Parliament  the  lobbies  and  the 
Court  of  Requests  were  crowded  with  deprived  parsons, 
asking  who  was  up,  and  what  the  numbers  were  on  the 
last  division.  Many  of  the  ejected  divines  became  domes- 
ticated, as  chaplains,  tutors,  and  spiritual  directors,  in  the 
houses  of  opulent  Jacobites.  In  a  situation  of  this  kind,  a 
man  of  pure  and  exalted  character,  such  a  man  as  Ken  was 
among  the  nonjurors,  and  Watts  among  the  non-conform- 
ists, may  preserve  his  dignity,  and  may  much  more  than 
repay  by  his  example  and  his  instructions  the  benefits 
which  he  receives.  But  to  a  person  whose  virtue  is  not 
high-toned  this  way  of  life  is  full  of  peril.  If  he  is  of  a 
quiet  disposition,  he  is  in  danger  of  sinking  into  a  servile, 
sensual,  drowsy  parasite.  If  he  is  of  an  active  and  aspiring 
nature,  it  may  be  feared  that  he  will  become  expert  in 
those  bad  arts  by  which  more  easily  than  by  faithful  ser- 
vice, retainers  make  themselves  agreeable  or  formid^ 
able.  To  discover  the  weak  side  of  every  character,  to 
flatter  every  passion  and  prejudice,  to  sow  discord  and 
jealousy  where  love  and  confidence  ought  to  exist,  to  watch 
the  moment  of  indiscreet  openness  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
tracting secrets  important  to  the  prosperity  and  honor  of 
families,  such  are  the  practices  by  which  keen  and  restless 
spirits  have  too  often  avenged  themselves  for  the  humilia- 
tion of  dependence.  The  public  voice  loudly  accused  many 
nonjurors  of  requiting  the  hospitality  of  their  benefactors 
with  villainy  as  black  as  that  of  the  hypocrite  depicted  in 
the  masterpiece  of  Molifere.     Indeed  when  Cibber  under- 

*  Much  curious  information  about  the  nonjurors  will  be  found  in  the  Biographical  M«« 
moirs  of  William  Bowyer,  Printer,  which  forms  the  first  volume  of  Nichols's  Literary 
Anecdotes  of  the  eighteoDth  century.   A  specimen  e<  Wagstafit's  presoriptionft  is  ill  M 


WILLIAM  ANb  MARV. 


3^7 


took  to  adapt  tn^  noble  comedy  to  the  English  stage,  he 
made  his  Tartuffe  a  nonjuror;  and  Johnson,  who  cannot 
be  supposed  to  have  been  prejudiced  against  the  non- 
jurors, frankly  owned  that  Gibber  had  done  them  no  wrong.=* 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  schism  caused  by  the 
oaths  would  have  been  far  more  formidable,  if,  at  this 
crisis,  any  extensive  change  had  been  made  in  the  govern- 
ment or  in  the  ceremonial  of  the  Established  Church.  It 
is  a  highly  instructive  fact  that  those  enlightened  and 
tolerant  divines  who  most  ardently  desired  such  a  change, 
saw  reason,  not  long  afterwards,  to  be  thankful  that  their 
favorite  project  had  failed. 

Whigs  and  Tories  had  in  the  late  Session  combined  to 
get  rid  of  Nottingham's  Comprehension  Bill  by  voting  an 
address  which  requested  the  King  to  refer  the  whole  sub- 
ject to  the  Convocation.  Burnet  foresaw  the  effect  of  this 
vote.  The  whole  scheme,  he  said,  was  utterly  ruined.f 
Many  of  his  friends,  however,  thought  differently ;  and 
among  these  was  Tillotson.  Of  all  the  members  of  the 
Low  Church  party,  Tillotson  stood  highest  in  general  esti- 
mation. As  a  preacher  he  was  thought  by  his  contempo- 
raries to  have  surpassed  all  rivals  living  or  dead.  Poster- 
ity has  reversed  this  judgment.  Yet  Tillotson  still  keeps 
his  place  as  a  legitimate  English  classic.  His  highest 
flights  were  indeed  far  below  those  of  Taylor,  of  Barrow, 
and  of  South ;  but  his  oratory  was  more  correct  and  equa- 
ble than  theirs.  No  quaint  conceits,  no  pedantic  quota- 
tions from  Talmudists  and  scholiasts,  no  mean  images, 
buffoon  stories,  scurrilous  invectives,  ever  marred  the  effect 
of  his  grave  and  temperate  discourses.    His  reasoning  was 

•  Gibber's  play,  as  Gibber  wrote  it,  ceased  to  be  popular  when  the  Jacobites  ceased  to 
be  formidable,  and  is  now  known  only  to  the  cunous.    In  1768,  Bickerstaffe  altered  it 
into  the  Hypocrite,  and  substituted  Dr.  CantweU,  the  Methodist,  for  Dr.  Wolfe,  the  Non- 
juror.   **  1  do  not  think,"  said  Johnson,  **  the  character  of  the  Hypocrite  Justly  applicable 
to  the  Methodist ;  but  it  was  very  applicable  to  the  nonjurors.*'    Bosweil  asked  him  if  it 
were  true  that  the  nonjuring  cler^men  intrigued  with  the  wives  of  their  patrons.    *'  I  am 
afraid,**  said  Johnson,  "many  of  them  did.**    This  conversation  took  place  on  the  17th  of 
March,  1775.    It  was  not  merely  in  careless  talk  that  Johnson  expressed  an  unfavorable 
opinion  of  the  nonjuror.    In  his  Life  of  Fenton.  who  was  a  nonjuror,  are  these  remarkable 
words ;  "  It  must  oe  remembered  that  he  kept  his  name  unsullied,  and  never  suffered  him- 
self to  be  reduced,  like  too  many  of  the  same  sect,  to  mean  arts  and  dishonorable  shifts.** 
See  the  Character  of  a  Jacobite,  1690.    Even  in  Kettleweirs  Life,  compiled  from  the 
papers  of  his  friends  Hickes  and  Nelson,  will  be  found  admissions  which  show  that,  very 
soon  after  the  schism,  some  of  the  nonjuring  clergy  fell  into  habits  of  idleness,  dependence, 
and  mendicancy,  which  lowered  the  character  of  the  whole  party.    "  Several  undeserving 
persons,  who  are  always  the  most  confident,  by  their  going  up  and  down,  did  much  preju- 
dice to  the  truly  deserving,  whose  modesty  would  not  suffer  them  to  solicit  for  themselves. 
.  .  ....  Mr.  Kettlewefi  was  also  very  sensible  that  some  of  his  brethren  spent  too  muck 

of  their  time  at  places  of  concourse  and  news,  by  depending  lor  their  subsistenea  upon  thoM 
whom  they  there  got  acquainted  witk.** 

t  Rerosby's  Memeirs^ 


36S 


ust  sufficiently  profound  and  sufficiently  refined  to  be  {(A 
owed  by  a  popular  audience  with  that  slight  degree  of  in* 
iellectual  exertion  which  is  a  pleasure.  His  style  is  not 
brilliant ;  but  it  is  pure,  transparently  clear,  and  equally 
free  from  the  levity  and  from  the  stiffness  which  disfigure 
the  sermons  of  some  eminent  divines  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  He  is  always  serious :  yet  there  is  about  his  man^ 
ner  a  certain  graceful  ease  which  marks  him  as  a  man  who 
knows  the  world,  who  has  lived  in  populous  cities  and  in 
splendid  courts,  and  who  has  conversed,  not  only  with 
books,  but  with  lawyers  and  merchants,  wits  and  beauties, 
statesmen  and  princes.  The  greatest  charm  of  his  com- 
positions, however,  is  derived  from  the  benignity  and  candor 
which  appear  in  every  line,  and  which  shone  forth  not  less 
conspicuously  in  his  life  than  in  his  writings. 

As  a  theologian,  Tillotson  was  certainly  not  less  latitudi* 
narian  than  Burnet.  Yet  many  of  those  clergymen  t® 
whom  Burnet  was  an  object  of  implacable  aversion,  spoke 
of  Tillotson  with  tenderness  and  respect.  It  is  therefore 
not  strange  that  the  two  friends  should  have  formed  dif* 
ferent  estimates  of  the  temper  of  the  priesthood,  and  should 
have  expected  different  results  from  the  meeting  of  the 
Convocation.  Tillotson  was  not  displeased  with  the  vote 
of  the  Commons.  He  conceived  that  changes  made  in 
religious  institutions  by  mere  secular  authority  might  dis- 
gust many  churchmen,  who  would'  yet  be  perfectly  willing  to 
vote,  in  an  ecclesiastical  synod,  for  changes  more  extensive 
still ;  and  his  opinion  had  great  weight  with  the  King.* 
It  was  resolved  that  the  Convocation  should  meet  at  the 
beginning  of  the  next  session  of  Parliament,  and  that  in 
the  meantime  a  commission  should  issue  empowering  some 
eminent  divines  to  examine  the  Liturgy,  the  canons,  and 
the  whole  system  of  jurisprudence  administered  by  the  Courts 
Christian,  and  to  report  on  the  alterations  which  it  might 
be  desirable  to  make.f 

Most  of  the  Bishops  who  had  taken  the  oaths  were  in 
this  commission ;  and  with  them  were  joined  twenty 
priests  of  great  note.  Of  the  twenty,  Tillotson  was  the 
most  important:  for  he  was  known  to  speak  the  sense  both 
of  the  King  and  of  the  Queen.  Among  those  Commis- 
sioners who  looked  up  to  Tillotson  as  their  chief  were 
Stillingfleet,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  Sharp,  Dean  of  Norwich, 

♦  Birch's  Lif«  of  Tillotson. 

t  Se«  Um  DiaomnrM  twWBrriwg  th^  EcclesbstiGal  Otmsaaaiem 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY, 


J69 


Patrick,  Dean  of  Peterborough,  Tenison,  Rector  of  Samt  Ma^ 
tin's,  and  Fowler,  to  whose  judicious  firmness  was  chiefly  to 
be  ascribed  the  determination  of  the  London  clergy  not  to 
read  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence. 

With  such  men  as  those  who  have  been  named  were  min* 
gled  seme  divines  who  belonged  to  the  High  Church  party. 
Conspicuous  among  these  were  two  of  the  rulers  of  Oxford, 
Aldrich,  and  Jane.  Aldrich  had  recently  been  appointed  Dean 
of  Christchurch,  in  the  room  of  the  Papist  Massey,  whom 
James  had,  in  direct  violation  of  the  laws,  placed  at  the  head 
of  that  great  college.  The  new  Dean  was  a  polite,  though 
not  a  profound  scholar,  and  a  jovial,  hospitable  gentleman. 
He  was  the  author  of  some  theological  tracts  which  have  long 
been  forgotten,  and  of  a  compendium  of  logic  which  is  still 
used  :  but  the  best  works  which  he  has  bequeathed  to  posterity 
are  his  catches.  Jane,  the  King's  Professor  of  Divinity,  was 
a  graver  but  a  less  estimable  man.  He  had  borne  the  chief 
part  in  framing  that  decree  by  which  his  University  ordered 
the  works  of  Milton  and  Buchanan  to  be  publicly  burned  in 
the  schools.  A  few  years  later,  irritated  and  alarmed  by  the 
persecution  of  the  Bishops  and  by  the  confiscation  of  the  reve- 
nues of  Magdalene  College,  he  had  renounced  the  doctrine  of 
non-resistance,  had  repaired  to  the  headquarters  of  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  and  had  assured  His  Highness  that  Oxford  would 
willingly  coin  her  plate  for  the  support  of  the  war  against  her 
oppressor.  During  a  short  time  Jane  was  generally  consider- 
ed as  a  Whig,  and  was  sharply  lampooned  by  some  of  his  old 
allies.  He  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  a  name  which  was 
an  excellent  mark  for  the  learned  punsters  of  his  University. 
Several  epigrams  were  written  on  the  doublefaced  Janus,  who, 
having  got  a  professorship  by  looking  one  way,  now  hoped  to 
get  a  bishopric  by  looking  another.  That  he  hoped  to  get  a 
bishopric  was  perfectly  true.  He  demanded  the  see  of  Ex- 
eter as  a  reward  due  to  his  services.  He  was  refused :  the 
refusal  convinced  him  that  the  Church  had  as  much  to  ap- 
prehend from  Latitudinarianism  as  from  Popery ;  and  he  speed* 
ily  became  a  Tory  again.  * 

Early  in  October  the  Commissioners  assembled  in  the 
Jerusalem  Chamber.  At  their  first  meeting  they  determined  to 
propose  that,  in  the  public  services  of  the  Church,  lessons  taken 
from  the  canonical  books  of  Scripture  should  be  substituted  for 


*  6irch*s  Lifa  ofTUlotson;  Lila  of  prldeaoucs  G9ntldman's  Magazina  for  Joad  ai4 

jHiy»  1741- 


37^ 


HISTORY  OF  ENOLAKD. 


the  lessons  taken  from  the  Apocrypha.*   At  the  second  meet* 

ing  a  strange  question  was  raised  by  the  very  last  person  who 
ought  to  have  raised  it.  Sprat,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  had, 
without  any  scruple,  sate,  during  two  years,  in  the  unconstitu^ 
tional  tribunal  which  had,  in  the  late  reign,  oppressed  and 
pillaged  the  Church  of  which  he  was  a  ruler.  But  he  had  now 
become  scrupulous,  and  was  not  ashamed,  after  acting  without 
hesitation  under  King  James's  commission,  to  express  a  doubt 
whether  King  William's  commission  were  legal.  To  a  plain 
understanding  the  doubt  seems  to  be  childish.  King  William's 
commission  gave  power  neither  to  make  laws  nor  to  admimister 
laws,  but  simply  to  inquire  and  to  report.  Even  without  a 
royal  commission,  Tillotson,  Patrick,  and  Stillingfleet  might, 
with  perfect  propriety,  have  met  to  discuss  the  state  and  pros- 
pects of  the  Church,  and  to  consider  whether  it  would  or  would 
not  be  desirable  to  make  some  concession  to  the  dissenters.  And 
how  could  it  be  a  crime  for  subjects  to  do  at  the  request  of  their 
Sovereign  that  which  it  would  have  been  innocent  and  laudable 
to  do  without  any  such  request  ?  Sprat,  however,  was  seconded 
by  Jane,  There  was  a  sharp  altercation ;  and  Lloyd,  Bishop  of 
Saint  Asaph,  who,  with  many  good  qualities,  had  an  irritable 
temper,  was  provoked  into  saying  something  about  spies.  Sprat 
withdrew  and  came  no  more.  His  example  was  soon  followed 
by  Jane  and  Aldrich.f  The  Commissioners  proceeded  to  take 
into  consideration  the  question  of  the  posture  at  the  Eucharist. 
It  was  determined  to  recommend  that  a  communicant,  who  after 
conference  with  his  minister,  should  declare  that  he  could  not 
conscientiously  receive  the  bread  and  wine  kneeling,  might 
receive  them  sitting.  Mew,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  an  honest 
man,  but  illiterate,  weak  even  in  his  best  days,  and  now  fast 
sinking  into  dotage,  protested  against  this  concession,  and  with* 
drew  from  the  assembly.  The  other  members  continued  to  apply 
themselves  vigorously  to  their  task ;  and  no  more  secessions  took 
place,  though  there  were  great  differences  of  opinion,  and  though 
the  debates  were  sometimes  warm.  The  highest  churchmen 
who  still  remained  were  Doctor  William  Beveridge,  Archdeacon 
of  Colchester,  who  many  years  later  became  Bishop  of  Saint 
Asaph,  and  Doctor  John  Scott,  the  same  who  had  prayed  by 
the  deathbed  of  Jeffreys.  The  most  active  among  the  Latitu- 
dinarians  appear  to  have  been  Burnet,  Fowler,  and  Tenison. 

•  Diary  of  the  Proceedings  of  the  Commissioners,  taken  bv  Dr.  Williams,  afterward* 
Bishop  of  Chichester,  one  of  the  Commissioners,  every  night  after  he  went  home  from  th« 
several  meetings.  This  most  curious  Diary  wtvs  priat^aby  order  of  th«  Hotua  ol  Con^ 
imoDS  in  1354. 

t  WmtM**  Vkay. 


WILLIAM  AND  MAKY. 


The  baptismal  service  was  repeatedly  discussed.  As  to 
matter  of  form  the  Commissioners  were  disposed  to  be  indulgent. 
They  were  generally  willing  to  ad^nit  infants  into  the  Church 
without  sponsors  and  without  the  sign  of  the  cross.  But  the 
majority,  after  much  debate,  steadily  refused  to  soften  down  or 
explain  away  those  words  which,  to  all  minds  not  sophisticated, 
jippear  to  assert  the  regenerating  virtue  of  the  sacrament.* 

As  to  the  surplice,  the  Commissioners  determined  to  recom- 
mend that  a  large  discretion  should  be  left  to  the  Bishops,  Ex- 
pedients were  devised  by  which  a  person  who  had  received 
Presbyterian  ordination  might,  without  admitting,  either  ex- 
pressly or  by  implication,  the  invalidity  of  that  ordination,  be- 
come a  minister  of  the  Church  of  England.f 

The  ecclesiastical  calendar  was  carefully  revised.  The  great 
festivals  were  retained.  But  it  was  not  thought  desirable  that 
Saint  Valentine,  Saint  Chad,  Saint  Swithin,  Saint  Edward,  King 
of  the  West  Saxons,  Saint  Dunstan,  and  Saint  Alphage,  should 
share  the  honors  of  Saint  John  and  Saint  Paul ;  or  that  the 
Church  should  appear  to  class  the  ridiculous  fable  of  the  dis- 
covery of  the  cross  with  facts  so  awfully  important  as  the 
Nativity,  the  Passion,  the  Resurrection  and  the  Ascension  of 
her  Lord.  J: 

The  Athanasian  Creed  caused  much  perplexity.  Most  of 
the  Commissioners  were  equally  unwilling  to  give  up  the  doc* 
trinal  clauses  and  to  retain  the  damnatory  clauses.  Burnet, 
Fowler,  and  Tillotson,were  desirous  to  strike  this  famous  sym- 
bol out  of  the  Liturgy  altogether.  Burnet  brought  forward  one 
argument,  which  to  himself  probably  did  not  appear  to  have 
much  weight,  but  which  was  admirably  calculated  to  perplex 
his  opponents,  Beveridge  and  Scott.  The  Council  of  Ephesus 
had  always  been  reverenced  by  Anglican  divines  as  a  synod 
which  had  truly  represented  the  whole  body  of  the  faithful,  and 
which  had  been  divinely  guided  in  the  way  of  truth.  The 
voice  of  that  Council  was  the  voice  of  the  Holy  Catholic  and 
Apostolic  Church,  not  yet  corrupted  by  superstition,  or  fent 
asunder  by  schism.  During  more  than  twelve  centuries  the 
world  had  not  seen  an  ecclesiastical  assembly  which  had  an 
equal  claim  to  the  respect  of  believers.  The  Council  of  Ephe- 
sus had,  in  the  plainest  terms,  and  under  the  most  terrible  pen- 
alties, forbidden  Christians  to  frame  or  to  impose  on  their 


•  William's  Diarjr.  .  f  Ibid. 

^  t  See  the  alterationt  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  prepared  by  the  Royal  Commb* 
sieners  for  the  revision  «i  the  Liturcy  in  1680,  and  printed  by  erdejr  •i  thA  H«o«t  dl 
C«BBnMi«  mi8|4.  y»       r  / 


37« 


BISTORT  OF  BNGLAND. 


brethren  any  creed  other  than  the  creed  settled  by  the  Nicena 
Fathers.  It  should  seem,  therefore,  that,  if  the  Council  of 
Ephesus  was  really  under  the  direction  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
whoever  uses  the  Athanasian  Creed  must,  in  the  very  act  of 
uttering  an  anathema  against  his  neighbors,  bring  down  aii 
anathema  on  his  own  head.*  In  spite  of  the  authority  of  the 
Ephesian  Fathers,  the  majority  of  the  Commissioners  deter- 
mined to  leave  the  Athanasian  Creed  in  the  Prayer-Book ;  but 
they  proposed  to  add  a  rubric  drawn  up  by  Stillingfleet,  which 
declared  that  the  damnatory  clauses  were  to  be  understood  to 
apply  only  to  such  as  obstinately  denied  the  substance  of  tha 
Christian  Faith.  Obstinacy  is  of  the  nature  of  moral  pravity, 
and  is  not  imputable  to  a  candid  and  modest  enquirer  who, 
from  some  defect  or  malformation  of  the  intellect,  is  mistaken 
as  to  the  comparative  weight  of  opposite  arguments  or  testi- 
monies. Orthodox  believers  were,  therefore,  permitted  to  hope 
that  the  heretic  who  had  honestly  and  humbly  sought  for  truth 
would  not  be  everlastingly  punished  for  having  failed  to  find  it.f 
Tenison  was  entrusted  with  the  business  of  examining  the 
Liturgy,  and  of  collecting  all  those  expressions  to  which  objec- 
tions had  been  made,  either  by  theological  or  by  literary  critics. 
It  was  determined  to  remove  some  obvious  blemishes.  And  it 
would  have  been  wise  in  the  Commissioners  to  stop  here.  Un- 
fortunately they  determined  to  rewrite  a  great  part  of  the 
Prayer-Book.  It  was  a  bold  undertaking ;  for  in  general  the 
style  of  that  volume  is  such  as  cannot  be  improved.  The  Eng- 
lish Liturgy  indeed  gains  by  being  compared  even  with  those 
fine  ancient  Liturgies  from  which  it  is  to  a  great  extent  taken. 
The  essential  qualities  of  devotional  eloquence,  conciseness, 
majestic  simplicity,  pathetic  earnestness  of  supplication,  so- 
bered by  a  profound  reverence,  are  common  between  the  trans- 
lations and  the  originals.  But  in  the  subordinate  graces  of 
diction  the  originals  must  be  allowed  to  be  far  inferior  to  the 
translations.  And  the  reason  is  obvious.  The  technical  phrase- 
ology of  Christianity  did  not  become  a  part  of  the  Latin  lan- 
guage till  that  language  had  passed  the  age  of  maturity  and 
was  sinking  into  barbarism.    But  the  technical  phraseology  of 

♦  It  is  difficult  to  conc^iye  stronger  or  clearer  language  than  that  used  by  that  Council. 
Toi^rwi;  tolvw  avayvoa^evrovy  copccev  tj  dyia  cvvodo^y  irkpav  nLGTLVurjdevl 
i^eivai  7rpoG(l>£peiv,  fjyow  cvyypd(!>eLVy  if  cwn^evat^  napd.  t^v  6pia^eicav 
napa  Ttjv  dyiuv  Tvarepuv  tcjv  sif  T'g  "NiKaiuv  ow£?iT&6vTuv  ovv  ayi(^Tzvfb(jLaTC 
Tov^  roXjuoyvra^  cwTi&ivai  7rhrn>  iripav^  ^yovp  irpoKOfii^eiv^^  irpoa^ipetp 
roZf  h'&i'kovGLV  eirccTpEdeLV  elg  iTvlyvcjaiv  rrjq  akfj-^eiag^  ^  ^ElXtpiajuoVf  fj 
*lovd(£(jfiov,  ^  £^  alpioEug  olaGdrjivoTovVy  roijTOvg^  li  filv  tlsv  imOKOTrot  ij 
KXripLKoi^  aXXorpiovg  elvai  tov^  kizLCnoTzovg  t^c  eTriOKOTT^Cy  f^cc^  Tovc  KhfptKQ^ 

Jt  WB&m'a  Piaiyi  Alterations  in  the  Books  gi  C^asam  PrSM.  v 


WILLIAM  ANB  MAUY. 


373 


Christianity  was  found  in  the  Anglo-Saxd  an4  Vorman 
Freneh,  long  before  the  union  of  those  two  diahcts  had  pro- 
duced a  third  dialect  superior  to  either.  The  Latin  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  services,  therefore,  is  Latin  in  the  last  stage 
of  decay.  The  English  of  our  services  is  English  in  all  th« 
vigor  and  suppleness  of  early  youth.  To  the  great  Latin 
writers,  to  Terence  and  Lucretius,  to  Cicero  and  Caesar,  to 
Tacitus  'and  Quintilian,  the  noblest  compositions  of  Ambrose 
and  Gregory  would  have  seemed  to  be,  not  merely  bad  writing, 
but  senseless  gibberish,*  The  diction  of  our  Book  of  Common 
Prayer,  on  the  other  hand,  has  directly  or  indirectly  contrib- 
uted to  form  the  diction  of  almost  every  great  English  writer, 
and  has  extorted  the  admiration  of  the  most  accomplished 
infidels  and  of  the  most  accomplished  nonconformists,  of -such 
men  as  David  Hume  and  Robert  Hall. 

The  style  of  the  Liturgy,  however,  did  not  satisfy  the  Doc- 
tors of  the  Jerusalem  Chamber.  They  voted  the  Collects  too 
short  and  too  dry ;  and  Patrick  was  entrusted  with  the  duty  of 
expanding  and  ornamenting  them.  In  one  respect,  at  least, 
the  choice  seems  to  have  been  unexceptionable ;  for,  if  we 
judge  by  the  way  in  which  Patrick  paraphrased  the  most 
sublime  Hebrew  poetry,  we  shall  probably  be  of  opinion  that, 
whether  he  was  or  was  not  qualified  to  make  the  Collects 
better,  no  man  that  ever  lived  was  more  competent  to  make 
them  longer.t 

It  mattered  little,  however,  whether  the  recommendations 
of  the  Commissioners  were  good  or  bad.  They  were  all  doomed 
before  they  were  known.  The  writs  summoning  the  Convoca- 
tion of  the  Province  of  Canterbury  had  been  issued ;  and  the 
clergy  were  everywhere  in  a  state  of  violent  excitement.  They 
had  just  taken  the  oaths,  and  were  smarting  from  the  earnest 
reproofs  of  nonjurors,  from  the  insolents  taunts  of  Whigs,  and 

*  It  is  curious  to  consider  how  those  great  masters  of  the  Latin  tongue  who  used  to  sup 
with  Maecenas  and  Pollio  would  have  been  perplexed  by  **Tibi  Cherubim  et  Seraphim  in» 
cessabili  voce  proclamant,  Sanctus,  Sanctus,^  Sanctus,  Dominus  Deus  Sabaoth ; "  or  bf 
*'  Ide©  cum  angelis  et  archangelis,  cum  thronis  et  dominationibus." 

t  I  will  give  two  specimens  of  Patrick's  workmaiiship.  **  He  maketh  me,*'  says  DaYid« 
**  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures :  he  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters,"  Patrick**  Yersion 
is  as  follows !  **  For  as  a  good  shepherd  leads  his  sheep  in  the  violent  heat  to  shady  places^ 
where  they  may  lie  down  and  feed  (not  in  parched,  but)  in  fresh  and  green  pastures,  and  in 
Ae  evening  leads  them  (not  to  muddy  and  troubled  waters,  but)  to  pure  and  quiet  streams  ; 
so  hath  he  already  made  a  fair  and  plentiful  provision  for  me,  which  I  enjoy  in  peace  without 
any  disturbance." 

In  the  Song  of  Solomon  is  an  exquisitely  beautiful  verse*  •*  I  charge  you,  O  daughters 
of  Jerusalem,  if  ye  find  my  beloved,  that  ye  tell  him  that  I  am  sick  of  love,"  Patrick's 
Yersion  runs  thus :  "Sol  turned  myself  to  those  of  my  neighbPrs  and  familiar  acquaintance 
who  were  awakened  by  my  cries  to  come  and  see  what  the  matter  was  ;  and  conjured  them» 
as  they  would  answer  it  to  God, that  if  they  met  with  my  beloved,  they  would  let  him  know 
— Wkat  shall  I  say? — What  shall  I  desire  you  to  tell  him  but  that  I  do  not  enjoy  myaelf 
BOW  that  I  want  ms  cosnpany^  aor  can  be  well  till  I  recover  bie  loy«  ^gtmi** 


374 


HiSTOkY  Of  £KGLANX>. 


often  undoubtedly  from  the  stings  of  remorse.  The  anti6unC6« 
ment  that  a  Convocation  was  to  sit  for  the  purpose  of  delibera- 
ting on  a  plan  of  comprehension  roused  all  the  strongest  pas- , 
sions  of  the  priest  who  had  just  complied  with  the  law,  and  wa§ 
ill  satisfied  or  half  satisfied  with  himself  for  complying.  He 
had  an  opportunity  of  contributing  to  defeat  a  favorite  scheme 
of  that  government  which  had  exacted  from  him,  under  severe 
penalties,  a  submission  not  easily  to  be  reconciled  to  his 
conscience  or  his  pride.  He  had  an  opportunity  of  signalizing 
his  zeal  for  that  Church  whose  characterestic  doctrines  he  had 
been  accused  of  deserting  for  lucre.  She  was  now,  he  conceiv- 
ed, threatened  by  a  danger  as  great  as  that  of  the  preceding 
year.  The  Latitudinarians  of  1689  were  not  less  eager  to 
humble  and  to  ruin  her  than  the  Jesuits  of  1688  had  been. 
The  Toleration  Act  had  done  for  the  Dissenters  quite  as  much 
as  was  compatible  with  her  dignity  and  security  ;  and  nothing 
more  ought  to  be  conceded,  not  the  hem  of  one  of  her  vest- 
ments, not  an  epithet  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  lier 
Liturgy.  All  the  reproaches  which  had  been  thrown  on  the 
ecclesiastical  commission  of  James  were  transferred  to  the  ec- 
clesiastical commission  of  William.  The  two  commissions  in- 
deed had  nothing  but  the  name  in  common.  But  the  name  was 
associated  with  illegality  and  oppression,  with  the  violation  of 
dwellings  and  the  confiscation  of  freeholds,  and  was  therefore 
assiduously  sounded  with  no  small  eflPect  by  the  tongues  of  the 
spiteful  in  the  ears  of  the  ignorant. 

The  King  too,  it  was  said,  was  not  sound.  He  conformed 
indeed  to  the  established  worship ;  but  his  was  a  local  and 
occasional  conformity.  For  some  ceremonies  to  which  High 
Churchmen  were  attached  he  had  a  distaste  which  he  was  at  no 
pains  to  conceal.  One  of  his  first  acts  had  been  to  give  orders 
that  in  his  private  chapel  the  service  should  be  said  instead  of 
being  sung;  and  this  arrangement,  though  warranted  by  the 
rubric,  caused  much  murmuring.*  It  was  known  that  he  was 
so  profane  as  to  sneer  at  a  practice  which  had  been  sanctioned 
by  high  ecclesiastical  authority,  the  practice  of  touching  for  the 
scrofula.  This  ceremony  had  come  down  almost  unaltered 
from  the  darkest  of  the  dark  ages  to  the  time  of  Newton 
and  Locke.  The  Stuarts  frequently  dispensed  the  healing 
influences  in  the  Banqueting  House.  The  days  on  which 
this  miracle  was  to  be  wrought  were  fixed  at  sittings  of  the  * 

*  William's  disliktt  to  the  Cathedral  service  1$  sarcastically  noticed  by  Leslie  in  the 
Rehearsal,  No.  7.  See  also  a  letter  from  a  Member  of  the  House  e{  Common*  to  lu8 
VfMnd  in  th«  C^ttntiy*  16I9,  aBd  Bieaet's  Modern  Fanatie.  \^\^ 


WHJUMi  Aim  UAXf. 


Hi 


Privy  Council,  and  were  solemnly  notified  by  tht  clergy  in  all 
the  parish  churches  of  the  realm.*  When  the  appointed  time 
came,  several  divines  in  full  canonicals  stood  round  the  canopy 
of  state.  The  surgeon  of  the  royal  household  introduced  the 
sick.  A  passage  from  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  the  Gospel  of 
Saint  Mark  was  read.  When  the  words,  "  They  shall  lay  theii 
hands  on  the  sick,and  they  shall  recover,"  had  been  pronounced, 
there  was  a  pause ;  and  one  of  the  sick  was  brought  up  to  the 
King.  His  Majesty  stroked  the  ulcers  and  swellings,  and  hung 
round  the  patient's  neck  a  white  riband  to  which  was  fastened  a 
gold  coin.  The  other  sufferers  were  then  led  up  in  succession ; 
and,  as  each  was  touched,  the  chaplain  repeated  the  incantation, 
"  They  shall  lay  their  hands  on  the  sick,  and  they  shall  re- 
cover." Then  came  the  epistle,  prayers,  antiphonies,  and  a 
benediction.  The  service  may  still  be  found  in  the  prayer-books 
of  the  reign  of  Anne.  Indeed  it  was  not  till  some  time  after 
the  accession  of  George  the  First  that  the  University  of  Ox* 
ford  ceased  to  reprint  the  Office  of  Healing  together  with  the 
Liturgy.  Theologians  of  eminent  learning,  ability,  and  virtue 
gave  the  sanction  of  their  authority  to  this  mummery ;  f  and 
what  is  stranger  still,  medical  men  of  high  note  believed,  or  af- 
fected to  believe,  in  the  balsamic  virtues  of  the  royal  hand.  We 
must  suppose  that  every  surgeon  who  attended  Charles  the 
Second  was  a  man  of  high  repute  for  skill ;  and  more  than  one 
of  the  surgeons  who  attended  Charles  the  Second  has  left  us  a 
solemn  profession  of  faith  in  the  King's  miraculous  power.  One 
of  them  is  not  ashamed  to  tell  us  that  the  gift  was  communica- 
ted by  the  unction  administered  at  the  coronation  ;  that  the  cures 
were  so  numerous  and  sometimes  so  rapid  that  they  could  not  be 
attributed  to  any  natural  cause ;  that  the  failures  were  to  be  as- 
cribed to  want  of  faith  on  the  part  of  the  patients  ;  that  Charles 
once  handled  a  scrofulous  Quaker  and  made  him  a  healthy  man 
and  a  sound  Churchman  in  a  moment ;  that,  if  those  who  had 
been  healed  lost  or  sold  the  piece  of  gold  which  had  been  hung 
round  their  necks,  the  ulcers  broke  forth  again,  and  could  be 
removed  only  by  a  second  touch  and  a  second  talisman.  We 
cannot  wonder  that,  when  men  of  science  gravely  repeated 
such  nonsense,  the  vulgar  should  have  believed  it.  Still  less 
can  we  wonder  that  wretches  tortured  by  a  disease  over  which 

•  See  the  Order  in  Council  of  Jan.  9,  1683. 

t  See  Collier's  Desertion  discussed,  t6Sg,  Thomas  Carte,  who  was  a  disciple,  and,  at 
one  time,  an  assistant  of  Collier,  inserted,  so  late  as  the  year  1747,  in  a  bulky  History  of 
England,  an  exquisitely  absurd  note,  in  which  he  assured  the  world  that,  to  his  certain 
knowledge,  the  Pretender  had  cured  the  scrofula,  and  rery  grarely  inferred  that  the  hcalinj 
virtue  was  transmitted  by  inheritance,  and  was  quiU  andeptad«nt  ol  any  im^fa.  Sf« 
Carte's  History  of  ]Cn|lan4y  yo)*  k  p«f«  t^u 


37^  HISTORY  OF  ENGLANDw 

natural  remedies  had  no  power  should  have  eagerly  drunk  ia 
tales  of  preternatural  cures :  for  nothing  is  so  credulous  as 
misery.  The  crowds  which  repaired  to  the  palace  on  the  days 
of  healing  were  immense.  Charles  the  Second,  in  the  course 
of  his  reign,  touched  near  a  hundred  thousand  persons.  The 
number  seems  to  have  increased  or  diminished  as  the  king's 
popularity  rose  or  fell.  During  that  Tory  reaction  which  fol- 
lowed the  dissolution  of  the  Oxford  Parliament,  the  press  to  get 
near  him  was  terrific.  In  1682,  he  performed  the  rite  eight 
thousand  five  hundred  times.  In  1684,  the  throng  was  such 
that  six  or  seven  of  the  sick  were  trampled  to  death.  James^ 
in  one  of  his  progresses,  touched  eight  hundred  persons  in  the 
choir  of  the  Cathedral  of  Chester.  The  expense  of  the  cere- 
mony was  little  less  than  ten  thousand  pounds  a  year,  and 
would  have  been  much  greater  but  for  the  vigilance  of  the  royal 
surgeons,  whose  business  it  was  to  examine  the  applicants,  and 
to  distinguish  those  who  came  for  the  cure  from  those  who 
came  for  the  gold.* 

William  had  too  much  sense  to  be  duped,  and  too  much 
honesty  to  bear  a  part  in  what  he  knew  to  be  an  imposture, 
"  It  is  a  silly  superstition,"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  heard  that, 
at  the  close  of  Lent,  his  palace  was  besieged  by  a  crowd  of  the 
sick :  "  Give  the  poor  creatures  some  money,  arid  send  them 
away."  f  On  one  single  occasion  he  was  importuned  into  laying 
his  hand  on  a  patient.  "  God  give  you  better  health,"  he  said, 
and  more  sense."  The  parents  of  scrofulous  children  cried 
out  against  his  cruelty :  bigots  lifted  up  their  hands  and  eyes 
in  horror  at  his  impiety :  Jacobites  sarcastically  praised  him  for 
not  presuming  to  arrogate  to  himself  a  power  which  belonged 
only  to  legitimate  sovereigns  ;  and  even  some  Whigs  thought' 
that  he  acted  unwisely  in  treating  with  such  marked  contempt 
a  superstition  which  had  a  strong  hold  on  the  vulgar  mind :  but 
William  was  not  to  be  moved,  and  was  accordingly  set  down 
by  many  High  Churchmen  as  either  an  infidel  or  a  puritan.t 


*  See  the  Preface  to  a  Treatise  on  Wounds,  by  Richard  Wiseman,  Sergeant  Chlrurgeon 
to  His  Majesty,  1676.  But  the  fullest  information  on  this  curious  subject  will  be  found  in 
the  Charisma  Basilicon,  by  John  Browne,  Chirurgeon  in  ordinary  to  His  Majesty,  1684. 
See  also  the  ceremonies  used  in  the  Time  of  King  Henry  VII.  for  the  Healing  of  them  that 
be  Diseased  with  the  King's  Evil,  published  by  His  Majesty's  Command,  1686;  Evelyn's 
Diary,  March  28,  1684  ;  and  Bishop  Cartwright's  Diary,  Aug.  28,  29,  and  30,  1687.  It  i» 
incredible  that  so  large  a  proportion  of  the  population  should  have  been  really  scrofulous.  No 
doubt  many  persons  who  had  slight  and  transient  maladies  were  brought  to  the  king ;  and 
the  recovery  of  these  persons  kept  up  the  vulgar  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  his  touch. 

t  Paris  Gazette,  April  23,  1689, 

t  See  Whiston's  Life  of  himself.    Poor  Whiston,  who  believed  in  everything  but  th« 
Trinity,  tells  us  gravely  that  the  single  person  whom  William  touched  was  cured,  not» 
withstanding  His  Majesty's  want  0I  iaith*   See  also  the  Athenian  Mezau7  Jaaoary 
169*. 


WILUAM  AND  MARY. 


377 


The  chief  cause,  however,  which  at  this  time  made  even  the 
most  moderate  plan  of  comprehension  hateful  to  the  priesthood 
still  remains  to  be  mentioned.  What  Burnet  had  foreseen  and 
foretold  had  come  to  pass.  There  was  throughout  the  clerical 
profession  a  strong  disposition  to  retaliate  on  the  Presbyterians 
of  England  the  wrongs  of  the  Episcopalians  of  Scotland.  It 
could  not  be  denied  that  even  the  highest  churchmen  had,  in 
the  summer  of  1688,  generally  declared  themselves  willing  to 
give  up  many  things  for  the  sake  of  union.  But  it  was  said, 
and  not  without  plausibility,  that  what  was  passing  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Border  proved  union  on  any  reasonable  terms  to  be 
Impossible.  With  what  face,  it  was  asked,  can  those  who  will 
make  no  concession  to  us  where  we  are  weak,  blame  us  for  re- 
fusing to  make  any  concession  to  them  where  we  are  strong  ? 
We  cannot  judge  correctly  of  the  principles  and  feelings  of  a 
sect  from  the  professions  which  it  makes  in  a  time  of  feebleness 
and  suffering.  If  we  would  know  what  the  Puritan  spirit  really 
is,  we  must  observe  the  Puritan  when  he  is  dominant.  He  was 
dominant  here  in  the  last  generation  ;  and  his  little  finger  was 
thicker  than  the  loins  of  the  prelates.  He  drove  hundreds  of 
quiet  students  from  their  cloisters,  and  thousands  of  respectable 
divines  from  their  parsonages,  for  the  crime  of  refusing  to  sign 
his  Covenant.  No  tenderness  was  shown  to  learning,  to  genius, 
or  to  sanctity.  Such  men  as  Hall  and  Sanderson,  Chilling- 
worth  and  Hammond,  were  not  only  plundered,  but  flung  into 
prisons,  and  exposed  to  all  the  rudeness  of  brutal  jailers.  It 
was  made  a  crime  to  read  fine  psalms  and  prayers  bequeathed 
to  the  faithful  by  Ambrose  and  Chrysostom.  At  length  the 
nation  became  weary  of  the  reign  of  the  saints.  The  fallen 
dynasty  and  the  fallen  hierarchy  were  restored.  The  Puritan 
was  in  his  turn  subjected  to  disabilities  and  penalties ;  and  he 
immediately  found  out  that  it  was  barbarous  to  punish  men  for 
entertaining  conscientious  scruples  about  a  garb,  about  a  cere^ 
mony,  about  the  functions  of  ecclesiastical  officers.  His  piteous 
complaints  and  his  arguments  in  favor  of  toleration  had  at 
length  imposed  on  many  well  meaning  persons.  Even  zealous 
churchmen  had  begun  to  entertain  a  hope  that  the  severe  disci- 
pline which  he  had  undergone  had  made  him  candid,  moderate, 
charitable.  Had  this  been  really  so,  it  would  doubtless  have 
been  our  duty  to  treat  his  scruples  with  extreme  tenderness. 
But,  while  we  were  considering  what  we  could  do  to  meet  his 
wishes  in  England,  he  had  obtained  ascendency  in  Scotland ; 
and,  in  an  instant,  he  was  all  himself  again,  bigoted,  insolent, 
and  cruel.  Manses  had  been  sacked ;  churches  shut  up ;  prayer* 
Vol.  III.— 13 


37« 


KtSTORY  or  EKOZJim 


books  burned  ;  sacred  garments  torn  ;  congregations  dispersed 
by  violence ;  priests  hustled,  pelted,  pilloried,  driven  forth,  with 
their  wives  and  babes,  to  beg  or  die  of  hunger.  That  these  out- 
rages were  to  be  imputed,  not  to  a  few  lawless  marauders,  but 
to  the  great  body  of  the  Presbyterians  of  Scotland,  was  evident 
from  the  fact  that  the  government  had  not  dared  either  to  inflict 
punishment  on  the  offenders  or  to  grant  relief  to  the  sufferers. 
Was  it  not  fit  then  that  the  Church  of  England  should  take 
warning  ?  Was  it  reasonable  to  ask  her  to  mutilate  her  apos- 
tolical polity  and  her  beautiful  ritual  for  the  purpose  of  concil- 
iating those  who  wanted  nothing  but  power  to  rabble  her  as 
they  had  rabbled  her  sister?  Already  these  men  had  obtained 
a  boon  which  they  ill  deserved,  and  which  they  never  would 
have  granted.  They  worshipped  God  in  perfect  security. 
Their  meeting-houses  were  as  effectually  protected  as  the  choirs 
of  our  cathedrals.  While  no  episcopal  minister  could,  without 
putting  his  life  in  jeopardy,  officiate  in  Ayrshire  or  Renfrewshire, 
a  hundred  Presbyterian  ministers  preached  unmolested  every 
Sunday  in  Middlesex.  The  legislature  had,  with  a  generosity 
perhaps  imprudent,  granted  toleration  to  the  most  intolerant  of 
men ;  and  with  toleration  it  behoved  them  to  be  content. 

Thus  several  causes  conspired  to  inflame  the  parochial 
clergy  against  the  scheme  of  comprehensiou.  Their  temper 
was  such  that,  if  the  plan  framed  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber 
had  been  directly  submitted  to  them,  it  would  have  been  re- 
jected by  a  majority  of  twenty  to  one.  But  in  the  Convocation 
their  weight  bore  no  proportion  to  their  number.  The  Con- 
vocation has,  happily  for  our  country,  been  so  long  utterly  in* 
significant  that,  till  a  recent  period,  none  but  curious  students 
cared  to  inquire  how  it  was  constituted  ;  and  even  now  many 
persons,  not  generally  ill  informed,  imagine  it  to  be  a  council 
representing  the  Church  of  England.  In  truth,  the  Convoca- 
tion so  often  mentioned  in  our  ecclesiastical  history  is  merely 
the  synod  of  the  Province  of  Canterbury,  and  never  had  a 
right  to  speak  in  the  name  of  the  whole  clerical  body.  The 
Province  of  York  has  also  its  Convocation :  but,  till  the  eigh- 
teenth century  was  far  advanced,  the  Province  of  York  was 
generally  so  poor,  so  rude,  and  so  thinly  peopled,  that,  in 
political  importance,  it  could  hardly  be  considered  as  more 
than  a  tenth  part  of  the  kin2:dom.  The  sense  of  the  Southern 
clergy  was  therefore  popularly  considered  as  the  sense  of  the 
whole  profession.  When  the  formal  concurrence  of  the 
Northern  clergy  was  required,  it  seems  to  have  been  given  as 
a  matter  of  course.    Indeed,  the  canons  passed  by  the  Convo* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


379 


Nation  of  Canterbury  in  1604  were  ratified  by  James  the  First, 
and  were  ordered  to  be  strictly  observed  in  every  part  of  the 
kingdom,  two  years  before  the  Convocation  of  York  went 
through  the  form  of  approving  them.  Since  these  ecclesiasti- 
cal councils  became  mere  names,  a  great  change  has  taken 
place  in  the  relative  position  of  the  two  Archbishoprics.  In 
all  the  elements  of  power,  the  region  beyond  Trent  is  now  at 
least  a  third  part  of  England.  When  in  our  own  time  the  rep- 
resentative system  was  adjusted  to  the  altered  state  of  the 
country,  almost  all  the  small  boroughs  which  it  was  necessary 
to  disfranchise  were  in  the  south.  Two  thirds  of  the  new 
members  given  to  great  provincial  towns  were  given  to  the 
north.  therefore,  any  English  government  should  suffer  the 
Convocations,  as  now  constituted,  to  meet  for  the  despatch  of 
business,  two  independent  synods  would  be  legislating  at  the 
same  time  for  one  Church.  It  is  by  no  means  impossible  that 
one  assembly  might  adopt  canons  which  the  other  might  re* 
ject,  that  one  assembly  might  condemn  as  heretical  proposi- 
tions which  the  other  might  hold  to  be  orthodox.*  In  the 
seventeeth  century  no  suth  danger  was  apprehended.  So 
little  indeed  was  the  Convocation  of  York  then  considered, 
that  the  two  Houses  of  Parliament  had,  in  their  address  to 
William,  spoken  only  of  one  Convocation,  which  they  called 
the  Convocation  of  the  Clergy  of  the  Kingdom. 

The  body  which  they  thus  not  very  accurately  designated 
is  divided  into  two  Houses.  The  Upper  House  is  composed 
of  the  Bishops  of  the  Province  of  Canterbury.  The  Lower 
House  consisted,  in  1689,  of  a  hundred  and  forty-four  members. 
Twenty-two  Deans  and  fifty-four  Archdeacons  sate  there  in 
virtue  of  their  offices.  Twenty-four  divines  sate  as  proctons 
for  twenty-four  chapters.  Only  forty-four  proctgrs  were  elected 
by  the  eight  thousand  parish  priests  of  the  twenty-two  dioceses. 
These  forty-four  proctors,  however,  were  almost  all  of  one 
mind.  The  elections  had  in  former  times  been  conducted  in 
the  most  quiet  and  decorous  manner.  But  on  this  occasion 
the  canvassing  was  eager :  the  contests  were  sharp :  Claren- 
don, who  had  refused  to  take  the  oaths,  and  his  brother 
Rochester,  the  leader  of  the  party  which  in  the  House  of 
Lords  had  opposed  the  Comprehension  Bill,  had  gone  to  Ox- 


♦  In  several  recent  publications  the  apprehension  that  differences  might  arise  between 
the  Convocation  of  York  and  the  Convocation  of  Canterbury  has  been  contemptuously  pro- 
nounced chimerical.  But  it  is  not  easy  to  understand  why  two  independent  Convocations 
should  be  less  likely  to  differ  than  two  Houses  of  the  same  Convocation  ;  and  it  is  matter 
of  notoriety  that,  in  the  reigns  of  William  the  Third  and  Anne,  the  two  Houses  of  tho 
Cwvoeation  of  Canterbury  scarcely  ever  agreed. 


38o 


HISTORY  OP  ENGLAND 


ford,  the  headquarters  of  that  party,  for  the  purpose  of  atti* 

mating  and  organizing  the  opposition.*  The  representatives 
of  the  parochial  clergy  must  have  been  men  whose  chief  dis- 
tinction was  their  zeal :  for  in  the  whole  list  can  be  found  not 
a  single  illustrious  name,  and  very  few  names  which  are  now 
known  even  to  persons  well  read  in  ecclesiastical  history.f 
The  official  members  of  the  Lower  House,  among  whom  were 
many  distinguished  scholars  and  preachers,  seem  to  have  been 
not  very  unequally  divided. 

During  the  summer  of  1689  several  high  spiritual  dignities 
became  vacant,  and  were  bestowed  on  divines  who  were  sitting 
In  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  It  has  already  been  mentioned 
that  Thomas,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  died  just  before  the  day 
fixed  for  taking  the  oaths,  Lake,  Bishop  of  Chichester,  lived 
just  long  enough  to  refuse  them,  and  with  his  last  breath  de- 
clared that  he  would  maintain  even  at  the  stake  the  doctrine  of 
indefeasible  hereditary  right.  The  see  of  Chichester  was 
filled  by  Patrick,  and  that  of  Worcester  by  Stillingfleet ;  and 
the  deanery  of  Saint  Paul's  which  Stillingfleet  quitted  was 
given  to  Tillotson.  That  Tillotsoif  was  not  raised  to  the  epis- 
copal bench  excited  some  surprise.  But  in  truth  it  was  because 
the  government  held  his  services  in  the  highest  estimation  that 
he  was  suffered  to  remain  a  little  longer  a  simple  presbyter. 
The  most  important  office  in  the  Convocation  was  that  of  Pro- 
locutor of  the  Lower  House  :  the  Prolocutor  was  to  be  chosen 
by  the  members :  and  it  was  hoped  at  court  that  they  would 
choose  Tillotson.  It  had  in  fact  been  already  determined 
that  he  should  be  the  next  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  When 
he  went  to  kiss  hands  for  his  new  deanery  he  warmly  thanked 
the  King.  Your  Majesty  has  now  set  me  at  ease  for  the  re- 
mainder of  my  life."  "  No  such  thing,  Doctor,  I  assure  you," 
said  William.  He  then  plainly  intimated  that,  whenever 
Bancroft  should  cease  to  fill  the  highest  ecclesiastical  station, 
Tillotson  v/ould  succeed  to  it.  Tillotson  stood  aghast ;  for  his 
nature  was  quiet  and  unambitious  ;  he  was  beginning  to  feel  the 
infirmities  of  old  age  ;  he  cared  little  for  rank  or  money  :  the 
worldly  advantages  which  he  most  valued  were  an  honest  fame 
and  the  general  good  will  of  mankind :  those  advantages  he 
already  possessed ;  and  he  could  not  but  be  aware  that,  if  he 


*  Birch's  Life  of  Tillotson  ;  Life  of  Prldeaux.  From  Clarendon's  Diary,  it  appears 
that  he  and  Rochester  were  at  Oxford  on  the  23d  of  September. 

t  See  the  Roll  in  the  Historical  account  of  the  present  Convocation,  appended  to  the 
second  edition  of  Vox  Cleri,  1690.  The  most  considerable  name  that  I  perceive  in  the  list 
of  proctors  chosen  by  the  parochial  clergy  is  that  oi  Dr.  John  Mill|  the  editor  of  the  Greek 
Testament, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


881 


became  primate,  he  should  incur  the  bitterest  hatred  of  a  powers 

fill  party,  and  should  become  a  mark  for  obloquy,  from  which 
his  gentle  and  sensitive  nature  shrank  as  from  the  rack  or  the 
wheel.  William  was  earnest  and  resolute.  "  It  is  necessary/^ 
he  said,  "  for  my  service ;  and  I  must  lay  on  your  conscience 
the  responsibility  of  refusing  me  your  help."  Here  the  conver- 
sation ended.  It  was,  indeed,  not  necessary  that  the  point 
should  be  immediately  decided ;  for  several  months  were  still 
to  elapse  before  the  Archbishopric  would  be  vacant. 

Tillotson  bemoaned  himself  with  unfeigned  anxiety  and 
sorrow  to  Lady  Russell,  whom,  of  all  human  beings,  he  most 
honored  and  trusted."*^  He  hoped,  he  said,  that  he  was  not 
inclined  to  shrink  from  the  service  of  the  Church  ;  but  he  was 
convinced  that  his  present  line  of  service  was  that  in  which  he 
could  be  most  useful.  If  he  should  be  forced  to  accept  so  high 
and  so  invidious  a  post  as  the  primacy,  he  should  soon  sink 
under  the  load  of  duties  and  anxieties  too  heavy  for  his  strength. 
His  spirits,  and  with  his  spirits  his  abilities,  would  fail  him.  He 
gently  complained  of  Burnet,  who  loved  and  admired  him  with 
a  truly  generous  heartiness,  and  who  had  labored  to  persuade 
both  the  King  and  Queen  that  there  was  in  England  only  one 
man  fit  for  the  highest  ecclesiastical  dignity.  "The  Bishop  ot 
Salisbury,"  said  Tillotson,  "is  one  of  the  best  and  worst  friends 
that  I  know." 

Nothing  that  was  not  a  secret  to  Burnet  was  likely  to  be 
long  a  secret  to  anybody.  It  soon  began  to  be  whispered  about 
that  the  King  had  fixed  on  Tillotson  to  fill  the  place  of  San* 
croft.  The  news  caused  cruel  mortification  to  Compton,  who, 
not  unnaturally,  conceived  that  his  own  claims  were  unrivalled. 
He  had  educated  the  Queen  and  her  sister ;  and  to  the  instruc- 
tion which  they  had  received  from  him  might  fairly  be  as- 
cribed, at  least  in  part,  the  firmness  with  which,  in  spite  of  the 
influence  of  their  father,  they  had  adhered  to  the  established 
religion.  Compton  was,  moreover,  the  only  prelate  who,  during 
the  late  reign,  had  raised  his  voice  in  Parliament  against  the 
dispensing  power,  the  only  prelate  who  had  been  suspended  by 
the  High  Commission,  the  only  prelate  who  had  signed  the  in^ 
vitation  to  the  Prince  of  Orange,  the  only  prelate  who  had  ac. 


*  The  letter  In  which  Tillotson  informed  Lady  Russell  of  the  King's  intentions  i| 
printed  in  Birch's  book:  but  the  date  is  clearly  erroneous.  Indeed  I  feel  assured  that  parti 
of  two  distinct  letters  have  been  by  some  blunder  joined  together.  In  one  passage  Tillot* 
son  informs  his  correspondent  that  Stillingfleet  is  made  Bishop  of  Worcester,  and  in  anothet 
that  Walker  is  made  Bishop  of  Derry.  Now  Stillingfleet  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Woiv 
cester  on  the  13th  oi  October,  1689,  and  Walker  was  not  made  Bishop  of  Derry  till  Junf 
1690, 


RISTORY  OF  £NGLAKD« 


tually  taken  arms  against  Popery  and  arbitrary  power,  the 
only  prelate,  save  one,  who  had  voted  against  a  Regency. 
Among  the  ecclesiastics  of  the  Province  of  Canterbury  who 
had  taken  the  oaths,  he  was  highest  in  rank.  He  had  there- 
fore held,  during  some  months,  a  vicarious  primacy ;  he  had 
crowned  the  new  Sovereigns;  he  had  consecrated  the  new 
Bishops  :  he  was  about  to  preside  in  the  Convocation.  It  may 
be  added,  that  he  was  the  son  of  an  Earl,  and  that  no  person 
of  equally  high  birth  then  sate,  or  had  ever  sate,  since  the  Ref- 
ormation, on  the  episcopal  bench.  That  the  government 
should  put  over  his  head  a  priest  of  his  own  diocese,  who  was 
the  son  of  a  Yorkshire  clothier,  and  who  was  distinguished 
only  by  abilities  and  virtues,  was  provoking;  and  Compton, 
though  by  no  means  a  bad-hearted  man,  was  much  provoked. 
Perhaps  his  vexation  was  increased  by  the  reflection  that  he 
had,  for  the  sake  of  those  by  whom  he  was  thus  slighted,  done 
some  things  which  had  strained  his  conscience  and  sullied  his 
reputation,  that  he  had  at  one  time  practised  the  disingenuous 
arts  of  a  diplomatist,  and  at  another  time  given  scandal  to  his 
brethren  by  wearing  the  buff  coat  and  jackboots  of  a  trooper. 
He  could  not  accuse  Tillotson  of  inordinate  ambition.  But, 
though  Tillotson  was  most  unwilling  to  accept  the  Archbish- 
opric himself,  he  did  not  use  his  influence  in  favor  of  Compton, 
but  earnestly  recommended  Stillingfleet  as  the  man  fittest  to 
preside  over  the  Church  of  England.  The  consequence  was 
that,  on  the  eve  of  the  meeting  of  Convocation,  the  Bishop  who 
was  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  Upper  House  became  the  per- 
sonal enemy  of  the  presbyter  whom  the  government  wished  to 
see  at  the  head  of  the  Lower  House.  This  quarrel  added  new 
difficulties  to  difficulties  which  little  needed  any  addition.* 

It  was  not  till  the  twentieth  of  November  that  the  Convo- 
cation met  for  the  despatch  of  business.  The  place  of  meet- 
ing had,  in  former  times,  been  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral.  But 
Saint  Paul's  Cathedral  was  slowly  rising  from  its  ruins;  and, 
though  the  dome  already  towered  high  above  the  hundred 
steeples  of  the  City,  the  choir  had  not  yet  been  opened  for 
public  worship.  The  assembly  therefore  sate  at  Westminster.f 
A  table  was  placed  in  the  beautiful  chapel  of  Henry  the  Sev- 
enth. Compton  was  in  the  chair.  On  his  right  and  left  those 
suffragans  of  Canterbury  who  had  taken  the  oaths  were  ranged 


*  Birch's  Life  of  Tillotson,  The  account  there  civen  of  the  coldness  between  Comptoa 
and  Tillotson  was  taken  by  Birch  from  the  MSS.  of  Henry  Wharton,  and  it  coofirmedby 
many  circumstances  which  are  known  from  other  sources  of  inUiUgeooa. 

t  Chambttrlaynt'a  State  of  England,  i8lh  edition. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


fn  gorgeous  vestments  of  scarlet  and  mimver.    Below  the  table 

was  assembled  the  crowd  of  presbyters.  Beveridge  pteached 
a  Latin  sermon,  in  which  he  warmly  eulogized  the  existing  sys* 
tem,  and  yet  declared  himself  favorable  to  a  moderate  reform. 
Ecclesiastical  laws  were,  he  said,  of  two  kinds.  Some  laws 
were  fundamental  and  eternal:  they  derived  their  authority 
from  God ;  nor  could  any  religious  community  abrogate  them 
without  ceasing  to  form  a  part  of  the  universal  Church,  Other 
laws  were  local  and  temporary.  They  had  been  framed  by 
human  wisdom,  and  might  be  altered  by  human  wisdom.  They 
ought  not  indeed  to  be  altered  without  grave  reasons.  But 
surely,  at  that  moment,  such  reasons  were  not  wanting.  To 
unite  a  scattered  flock  in  one  fold  under  one  shepherd,  to  re- 
move stumbling  blocks  from  the  path  of  the  weak,  to  reconcile 
hearts  long  estranged,  to  restore  spiritual  discipline  to  its  prim- 
itive vigor,  to  place  the  best  and  purest  of  Christian  societies 
on  a  base  broad  enough  to  stand  against  all  the  attacks  of 
earth  and  hell,  these  were  objects  which  might  well  justify 
some  modification,  not  of  Catholic  institutions,  but  of  national 
or  provincial  usages.* 

The  Lower  House,  having  heard  this  discourse,  proceeded 
to  appoint  a  Prolocutor.  Sharp,  who  was  probably  put  forward 
by  the  members  favorable  to  a  comprehension  as  one  of  the 
highest  churchmen  among  them,  proposed  Tillotson.  Jane,  who 
had  refused  to  act  under  the  Royal  Commission,  was  proposed 
on  the  other  side.  After  some  animated  discussion,  Jane  was 
elected  by  fifty-five  votes  to  twenty-eight.f 

The  Prolocutor  was  formally  presented  to  the  Bishop  of 
London,  and  made,  according  to  ancient  usage,  a  Latin  oration. 
In  this  oration  the  Anglican  Church  was  extolled  as  the  most 
perfect  of  all  institutions.  There  was  a  very  intelligible  intima- 
tion that  no  change  whatever  in  her  doctrine,  her  discipline,  or 
her  ritual  was  required  :  and  the  discourse  concluded  with  a 
most  significant  sentence.  Compton,  when  a  few  months  be- 
fore he  exhibited  himself  in  the  somewhat  unclerical  character 
of  a  colonel  of  horse,  had  ordered  the  colors  of  his  regiment 
to  be  embroidered  with  the  well  known  words  "  Nolumus  leges 
Angliae  mutari  "  ;  and  with  these  words  Jane  closed  his  perora- 
tion.$ 

Still,  the  Low  Churchmen  did  not  relinquish  all  hope.  They 
very  wisely  determined  to  begin  by  proposing  to  substitute  les- 


*  Concio  ad  Synodum  per  Gulielmum  Beveregium,  1689. 

t  Luttrell's  Diary  ;  Historical  Account  of  tha  Present  Convocation, 

t  ICennet's  History,  iii,  ijjj. 


384 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAKDib 


sons  taken  from  the  canonical  books  for  the  lessons  taken  from 
the  Apocrypha.  It  should  seem  that  this  was  a  suggestion 
which,  even  if  there  had  not  been  a  single  dissenter  in  the  king« 
dom,  might  well  have  been  received  with  favor.  For  the 
Church  had,  in  her  sixth  Article,  declared  that  the  canonical 
books  were,  and  that  the  Apocryphal  books  were  not,  entitled 
to  be  called  Holy  Scriptures,  and  to  be  regarded  as  the  rule  of 
faith.  Even  this  reform,  however,  the  High  Churchmen  were 
determined  to  oppose.  They  asked,  in  pamphlets  which  covered 
the  counters  of  Paternoster  Row  and  Little  Britain,  why  country 
congregations  should  be  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
about  the  ball  of  pitch  with  which  Daniel  choked  the  dragon, 
and  about  the  fish  whose  liver  gave  forth  such  a  fume  as  sent 
the  devil  flying  from  Ecbatana  to  Egypt.  And  were  there  not 
chapters  of  the  wisdom  of  the  Son  of  Sirach  far  more  interest- 
ing and  edifying  than  the  genealogies  and  muster  rolls  which 
made  up  a  large  part  of  the  Chronicles  of  the  Jewish  Kings, 
and  of  the  narrative  of  Nehemiah  ?  No  grave  divine  however 
would  have  liked  to  maintain,  in  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  find,  in  many  hundreds  of  pages 
dictated  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  fifty  or  sixty  chapters  more  edify- 
ing than  anything  which  could  be  extracted  from  the  works  of 
the  most  respectable  uninspired  moralist  or  historian.  The 
leaders  of  the  majority  therefore  determined  to  shun  a  debate 
in  which  they  must  have  been  reduced  to  a  disagreeable 
dilemma.  Their  plan  was,  not  to  reject  the  recommedations  of 
the  Commissioners,  but  to  prevent  those  recommendations  from 
^eing  discussed  ;  and  with  this  view  a  system  of  tactics  was 
adopted  which  proved  successful. 

The  law,  as  it  had  been  interpreted  during  a  long  course  of 
years,  prohibited  the  Convocation  from  even  deliberating  on 
any  ecclesiastical  ordinance  without  a  previous  warrant  from 
the  Crown.  Such  a  warrant,  sealed  with  the  great  seal,  was 
brought  in  form  to  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel  by  Nottingham, 
lie  at  the  same  time  delivered  a  message  from  the  King.^  His 
Majesty  exhorted  the  assembly  to  consider  calmly  and  without 
prejudice  the  recommendations  of  the  Commission,  and  de- 
clared that  he  had  nothing  in  view  but  the  honor  and  advan- 
tage of  the  Protestant  religion  in  general,  and  of  the  Church  of 
England  in  particular.* 

The  Bishops  speedily  agreed  on  an  address  of  thanks  for 
the  royal  message,  and  requested  the  concurrence  of  the  Lower 


*  Htftori^  Acommt  of  tbe  Preset  Cpavoc9lio%  16891 


WILLIAM  Aim  MARY. 


38i 


House.  Jane  and  his  adherents  raised  objection  after  objec- 
tion. First  they  claimed  the  privilege  of  presenting  a  separate 
address.  When  they  were  forced  to  waive  this  claim,  they 
refused  to  agree  to  any  expression  which  imported  that  the 
Church  of  England  had  any  fellowship  with  any  other  Prot- 
estant community.  Amendments  and  reasons  were  sent  back- 
ward and  forward.  Conferences  were  held  at  which  Burnet  on 
one  side  and  Jane  on  the  other  were  the  chief  speakers.  At 
last,  with  great  difficulty,  a  compromise  was  made  ;  and  aa 
address,  cold  and  ungracious  compared  with  that  which  the 
Bishops  had  framed,  was  presented  to  the  King  in  the  Banquet- 
ing House.  He  dissembled  his  vexation,  returned  a  kind 
answer,  and  intimated  a  hope  that  the  assembly  would  now 
at  length  proceed  to  consider  the  great  question  of  Compre* 
hension."* 

Such  however  was  not  the  intention  of  the  leaders  of  the 
Lower  House.  As  soon  as  they  were  again  in  Henry  the  Sev- 
enth's Chapel,  one  of  them  raised  a  debate  about  the  non- 
juring  Bishops.  In  spite  of  the  unfortunate  scruple  which 
those  prelates  entertained,  they  were  learned  and  holy  mea. 
Their  advice  might,  at  this  conjuncture,  be  of  the  greatest 
service  to  the  Church.  The  Upper  House  was  hardly  an 
Upper  House  in  the  absence  of  the  Primate  and  of  many  ot 
his  most  respectable  suffragans.  Could  nothing  be  done  to 
remedy  this  evil  ?  f  Another  member  complained  of  some 
pamphlets  which  had  lately  appeared,  and  in  which  the  Con- 
vocation was  not  treated  with  proper  deference.  The  assembly 
took  fire.  Was  it  not  monstrous  that  this  heretical  and  schis- 
matical  trash  should  be  cried  by  the  hawkers  about  the  streets, 
and  should  be  exposed  to  sale  in  the  booths  of  Westminster 
Hall,  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  Prolocutor's  chair  ?  The 
work  of  mutilating  the  Liturgy  and  of  turning  cathedrals  into 
conventicles  might  surely  be  postponed  till  the  Synod  had 
taken  measures  to  protect  its  own  freedom  and  dignity.  It  was 
then  debated  how  the  printing  of  such  scandalous  books  should 
be  prevented.  Some  were  for  indictments,  some  for  eccle- 
siastical censures. $  In  such  deliberations  as  these  week  after 
week  passed  away.  Not  a  single  proposition  tending  to  a 
Comprehension  had  been  even  discussed.  Christmas  was 
approaching.    At  Christmas  there  was  to  be  a  recess.  Th^ 


*  Historical  Account  of  the  Present  Convocation  ;  Burnet,  ii.  58  ;  Kennet*s  History  ol 
the  Reign  of  Willianj  and  Mary. 

t  Historical  Account  of  tke  Present  Convocation ;  Kenneths  History* 
%  Hlstorioal  Account  oi  the  Present  Convocation  |  Kennet. 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLiim 


Bishops  were  desirous  that,  during  the  recess,  a  committee 

should  sit  to  prepare  business.  The  Lower  House  refused  to 
consent.*  That  House,  it  was  now  evident,  was  fully  deter- 
mined not  even  to  enter  on  the  consideration  of  any  part  of 
the  plan  which  had  been  framed  by  the  Royal  Commissioners. 
The  proctors  of  the  dioceses  were  in  a  worse  humor  than  when 
they  first  came  up  to  Westminster,  Many  of  them  had  prob- 
ably never  before  passed  a  week  in  the  capital,  and  had  not 
been  aware  how  great  the  difference  was  betwen  a  town  divine 
and  a  country  divine.  The  sight  of  the  luxuries  and  comforts 
enjoyed  by  the  popular  preachers  of  the  city  raised,  not  unnat- 
urally, some  sore  feeling  in  a  Lincolnshire  or  Caernarvonshire 
vicar  who  was  accustomed  to  live  as  hardly  as  a  small  farmer. 
The  very  circumstance  that  the  London  clergy  were  generally 
for  a  comprehension  made  the  representatives  of  the  rural 
clejgy  obstinate  on  the  other  side.f  The  prelates  were,  as  a 
body,  sincerely  desirous  that  some  concession  might  be  made 
to  the  nonconformists.  But  the  prelates  were  utterly  unable  to 
curb  the  mutinous  democracy.  They  were  few  in  number. 
Some  of  them  were  objects  of  extreme  dislike  to  the  parochial 
clergy.  The  President  had  not  the  full  authority  of  a  primate  ; 
nor  was  he  sorry  to  see  those  who  had,  as  he  conceived,  used 
him  ill,  thwarted  and  mortified.  It  was  necessary  to  yield. 
The  Convocation  was  prorogued  for  six  weeks.  When  those 
six  weeks  had  expired,  it  was  prorogued  again  ;  and  many 
years  elapsed  before  it  was  permitted  to  transact  business. 

So  ended,  and  for  ever,  the  hope  that  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land might  be  induced  to  make  some  concession  to  the  scru- 
ples of  the  nonconformists.  A  learned  and  respectable  minor^ 
ity  of  the  clerical  order  relinquished  that  hope  with  deep  regret. 
Yet  in  a  very  short  time  even  Burnet  and  Tillotson  found  rea- 
son to  believe  that  their  defeat  was  really  an  escape,  and  that 
victory  would  have  been  a  disaster.  A  reform,  such  as,  in  the 
days  of  Elizabeth,  would  have  united  the  great  body  of  English 
Protestants,  would,  in  the  days  of  William,  have  alienated  more 
hearts  than  it  would  have  conciliated.    The  schism  which  the 


*  Historical  Account  of  the  Present  Convocation. 

t  That  there  was  such  a  jealousy  as  I  have  described  is  admitted  in  the  pamphlet  entitled 
Vox  Cleri.  "  Some  country  ministers,  now  of  the  Convocation,  do  now  see  in  what  great 
ease  and  plenty  the  City  ministers  live,  who  have  their  readers  and  lecturers,  and  frequent 
supplies,  and  sometimes  tarry  in  the  vestry  till  pravers  be  ended,  and  have  great  dignities  in 
the  Church,  beside  their  rich  parishes  in  the  City."  The  author  of  this  tract,  once  widely 
celebrated,  was  Thomas  Long,  proctor  for  the  clergy  of  the  diocese  of  Exeter.  In  another 
pamphlet,  published  at  this  time,  the  rural  clergymen  are  said  to  have  seen  with  an  evil 
eye  their  London  brethren  refreshing  themselves  with  sack  after  preaching.  Several  satir- 
ical allusions  to  the  fable  oi  the  Town  Mouse  and  the  Country  Mouse  wUl  be  found  in  the 
pamphlets  of  that  wiatert 


WIUJAM  AND  MARY. 


38) 


©aths  had  produced  was,  as  yet,  insignificant.  Innovations 
such  as  those  proposed  by  the  Royal  Commissioners  would 
have  given  it  a  terrible  importance.  As  yet  a  layman,  though 
he  might  think  the  proceedings  of  the  Convention  unjustifiable, 
and  though  he  might  applaud  the  virtue  of  the  nonjuring 
clergy,  still  continued  to  sit  under  the  accustomed  pulpit,  and 
to  kneel  at  the  accustomed  altar.  But  if,  just  at  this  conjunc- 
ture, while  his  mind  was  irritated  by  what  he  thoughjt  the 
wrong  done  to  his  favorite  divines,  and  while  he  was  perhaps 
doubting  whether  he  ought  not  to  follow  them,  his  ears  and 
eyes  had  been  shocked  by  changes  in  the  worship  to  which  he 
was  fondly  attached,  if  the  compositions  of  the  doctors  of  the 
Jerusalem  Chamber  had  taken  the  place  of  the  old  collects,  if 
he  had  seen  clergymen  without  surplices  carrying  the  chalice 
and  the  paten  up  and  down  the  aisle  to  seated  communicants, 
the  tie  which  bound  him  to  the  Established  Church  would  have 
been  dissolved.  He  would  have  repaired  to  some  nonjuring 
a^ssembly,  where  the  service  which  he  loved  was  performed 
without  mutilation.  The  new  sect,  which  as  yet  consisted  al- 
most exclusively  of  priests,  would  soon  have  been  swelled  by 
numerous  and  large  congregations :  and  in  those  congregations 
would  have  been  found  a  much  greater  proportion  of  the  opu« 
lent,  of  the  highly  descended,  and  of  the  highly  educated,  than 
any  other  body  of  dissenters  could  show.  The  episcopal  schis- 
matics, thus  reinforced,  would  probably  have  been  as  formid- 
able to  the  new  King  and  his  successors  as  ever  the  Puritan 
schismatics  had  been  to  the  princes  of  the  House  of  Stuart.  It 
is  an  indisputable  and  a  most  instructive  fact,  that  we  are,  in 
a  great  measure,  indebted  for  the  civil  and  religious  liberty 
which  we  enjoy  to  the  pertinacity  with  which  the  High  Church 
party,  in  the  Convocation  of  1689,  refused  even  to  deliberate 
on  any  plan  of  Comprehension.* 

*  Burnet,  ii.  33,  34.  The  best  narratives  of  what  passed  in  this  Convocation  are  the 
Historical  Account  appended  to  the  second  edition  of  Vox  Cleri  ;  and  the  passage  in 
Kenneths  History  to  which  I  have  already  referred  the  reader.  The  former  narrative  is  by 
a  very  high  churchman,  the  latter  by  a  very  low  churchman.  Those  who  are  desirous  of 
obtaining  fuller  information  must  consult  the  contemporary  pamphlets.  Among  them  are 
Vox  Populi  ;  Vox  Laici  ;  Vox  Regis  et  Regni  ;  the  Healing  attempt  ;  the  Letter  to  a 
Friend,  by  Dean  Prideaux  ;  the  Letter  from  a  Minister  in  the  Country  to  a  Member  of  the 
Convocation  ;  the  Answer  to  the  Meny  Answer  to  Vox  Cleri  ;  the  Remarks  from  the 
Country  upon  two  Letters  relating  to  the  Convocation  ;  the  Vindication  of  the  Letters  in 
answer  to  Vox  Cleri ;  the  Answer  to  the  Country  Minister**  Letter.  AU  these  tracis 
appeared  late  in       or  oarly  aa  1690* 


BmORY  OF  SNGUUfBu 


CHAPTER  XV^i689-x69iX 

While  the  Convocation  was  wrangling  on  one  side  of  Old 

Palace  Yard,  the  Parliament  was  wrangling  even  more  fiercely 
on  the  other.  The  Houses,  which  had  separated  on  the  twen- 
tieth of  August,  had  met  again  on  the  nineteenth  of  October, 
On  the  day  of  meeting  an  important  change  struck  every  eye. 
Halifax  was  no  longer  on  the  woolsack.  He  had  reason  to 
expect  that  the  persecution,  from  which  he  had  narrowly  escaped 
in  the  summer,  would  be  renewed.  The  events  which  had 
taken  place  during  the  recess,  and  especially  the  disasters  of  the 
campaign  in  Ireland,  had  furnished  his  enemies  with  fresh  means 
of  annoyance.  His  administration  had  not  been  successful ; 
and,  though  his  failure  was  partly  to  be  ascribed  to  causes 
against  which  no  human  wisdom  could  have  contended,  it  was 
also  partly  to  be  ascribed  to  the  peculiarities  of  his  temper  and 
his  intellect.  It  was  certain  that  a  large  party  in  the  Commons 
would  attempt  to  remove  him ;  and  he  could  no  longer  depend 
on  the  protection  of  his  master.  It  was  natural  that  a  prince 
who  was  emphatically  a  man  of  action  should  become  weary  of 
a  minister  who  was  a  man  of  speculation.  Charles,  who  went 
to  Council  as  he  went  to  the  play,  solely  to  be  amused,  was 
delighted  with  an  adviser  who  had  a  hundred  pleasant  and 
ingenious  things  to  say  on  both  sides  of  every  question.  But 
William  had  no  taste  for  disquisitions  and  disputations,  however 
lively  and  subtle,  which  occupied  much  time  and  led  to  no  con- 
clusion. It  was  reported,  and  is  not  improbable,  that  on  one 
occasion  he  could  not  refrain  from  expressing  in  sharp  terms  at 
the  council  board  his  impatience  at  what  seemed  to  him  a  morbid 
habit  of  indecision."^  Halifax,  mortified  by  his  mischances  in 
public  life,  dejected  by  domestic  calamities,  disturbed  by  ap- 
prehensions of  an  impeachment,  and  no  longer  supported  by 
royal  favor,  became  sick  of  public  life,  and  began  to  pine  for 


*  "  Halifax  a  eu  une  reprimande  severe  publiqoement  dans  le  conseil  par  le  Prince 
d' Orange  pour  avoir  trop  balance." — Avaux  to  De  Croissy,  Dublin,  June  16-26,  1680. 
"  His  mercurial  wit,**  says  Burnet,  ii.  4,  **  was  not  well  suited  with  the  King  f 
phlegm." 


WILLIAM  ANT^  MARY. 


the  &iSence  and  solitude  of  his  seat  in  Nottinghamshire,  an  old 
Cistersian  Abbey  buried  deep  among  woods.  Early  in  October 
it  was  known  that  he  would  no  longer  preside  in  the  Upper 
House.  It  was  at  the  same  time  whispered  as  a  great  secret 
that  he  meant  to  retire  altogether  from  business,  and  that  he 
retained  the  Privy  seal  only  till  a  successor  should  be  named. 
Chief  Baron  Atkyns  was  appointed  Speaker  of  the  Lords.'* 

On  some  important  points  there  appeared  to  be  no  difference 
<»f  opinion  in  the  legislature.  The  Common^?'  unanimously 
resolved  that  they  would  stand  by  the  King  in  the  work  of 
reconquering  Ireland,  and  that  they  would  enable  him  to  prose- 
cute with  vigor  the  war  against  France.f  With  equal  unanim- 
ity  they  voted  an  extraordinary  supply  of  two  millions.^  It 
was  determined  that  the  greater  part  of  this  sum  should  be  '^vied 
by  an  assessment  on  real  property.  The  rest  was  to  be  laised 
partly  by  a  poll  tax,  and  partly  by  new  duties  on  tea,  coffee, 
and  chocolate.  It  was  proposed  that  a  hundred  thousand  pound? 
should  be  exacted  from  the  Jews ;  and  this  proposition  was  at 
first  favorably  received  by  the  house  ;  but  difficulties  arose. 
The  Jews  presented  a  petition  in  which  they  declared  that  they 
could  not  afford  to  pay  such  a  sum,  and  that  they  would  rather 
leave  the  kingdom  than  stay  there  to  be  ruined.  Enlightened 
politicians  could  not  but  perceive  that  special  taxation,  laid  on 
a  small  class  which  happens  to  be  rich,  unpopular,  and  defence- 
less, is  really  confiscation,  and  must  ultimately  impoverish  rather 
than  enrich  the  State.  After  some  discussion,  the  Jew  tax  was 
abandoned.  § 

The  Bill  of  Rights,  which,  in  the  last  Session,  had,  after 
causing  much  altercation  between  the  Houses,  been  suffered  to 
drop,  was  again  introduced,  and  was  speedily  passed.  The 
peers  no  longer  insisted  that  any  person  should  be  designated 
by  name  as  successor  to  the  crown,  if  Mary,  Anne,  and  William 
should  all  die  without  posterity.  During  eleven  years  nothing 
more  was  heard  of  the  claims  of  the  House  of  Brunswick. 

The  Bill  of  Rights  contained  some  provisions  which  deserve 
special  mention.  The  Convention  had  resolved  that  it  was 
contrary  to  the  interest  of  the  kingdom  to  be  govecned  by  a 
Papist,  but  had  prescribed  no  test  which  could  ascertain 

*  Clarendon's  Diary.  Oct.  10^  1689  ;  Lords*  Journals,  Oct.  ig^  1689* 
t  Commons'  Journals,  Oct.  24,  1689. 
%  Commons*  Journals.  Nov.  2,  1689. 

§  Commons'  Journals,  November  7,  19,  Dec  30,  1689.  The  rule  of  the  House  tfioi 
was  that  no  petition  could  be  received  against  the  imposition  of  a  tax.  This  rule  was,  after 
a  very  hard  fight,  rescinded  in  184J.  The  petition  of  the  Jews  was  not  received,  and  is  not 
menUoned  in  the  Journals.  But  something  may  be  learned  about  it  from  LuttreU*s  Di^rj 
ai»^  from  Grey's  Debates,  Nov.  i9»  <689« 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


whether  a  prince  was  or  was  not  a  Papist.   The  defect  was 

now  supplied.  It  was  enacted  that  every  English  Sovereign 
should,  in  full  Parliament,  and  at  the  coronation,  repeat  and 
subscribe  the  Declaration  against  Transubstantiation. 

It  was  also  enacted  that  no  person  who  should  marry  a 
Papist  should  be  capable  of  reigning  in  England,  and  that,  if 
the  Sovereign  should  marry  a  Papist,  the  subject  should  be 
absolved  from  allegiance.  Burnet  boasts  that  this  part  of  the 
Bill  of  Rights  was  his  work.  He  had  little  reason  to  boast : 
for  a  more  wretched  specimen  of  legislative  workmanship  will 
not  easily  be  found.  In  the  first  place,  no  test  is  prescribed. 
Whether  the  consort  of  a  Sovereign  has  taken  the  oath  of 
supremacy,  has  signed  the  declaration  against  transubstantiation, 
has  communicated  according  to  the  ritual  of  the  Church  of 
England,  are  very  simple  issues  of  fact.  But  whether  the 
consort  of  a  Sovereign  is  or  is  not  a  Papist  is  a  question  about 
which  people  may  argue  for  ever.  What  is  a  Papist  ?  The 
word  is  not  a  word  of  definite  signification  either  in  law  or  in 
theology.  It  is  merely  a  popular  nickname,  and  means  very 
different  things  in  different  mouths.  Is  every  person  a  Papist 
who  is  willing  to  concede  to  the  Bishop*  of  Rome  a  primacy 
among  Christian  prelates  ?  If  so,  James  the  First,  Charles  the 
First,  Laud,  Heylyn,  were  Papists.*  Or  is  the  appellation  to 
be  confined  to  persons  who  hold  the  ultramontane  doctrines 
touching  the  authority  of  the  Holy  See  ?  If  so,  neither  Bossuet 
nor  Pascal  was  a  Papist. 

What  again  is  the  legal  effect  of  the  words  which  absolve 
the  subject  from  his  allegiance  ?  Is  it  meant  that  a  person 
arraigned  for  high  treason  may  tender  evidence  to  prove  that 
the  Sovereign  has  married  a  Papist  ?  Would  Thistlewood,  for 
example,  have  been  entitled  to  an  acquittal,  if  he  could  have 
proved  that  King  George  the  Fourth  had  married  Mrs.  Fitzher- 
bert,  and  that  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  was  a  Papist?  It  is  not  easy 
to  believe  than  any  tribunal  would  have  gone  into  such  a 
question.  Yet  to  what  purpose  is  it  to  enact  that,  in  a  certain 
case,  the  subject  shall  be  absolved  from  his  allegiance,  if  the 


*  James,  in  the  very  treatise  in  which  he  tried  to  prove  the  Pope  to  be  Anti-Christ» 
says  :  *'  For  myself,  if  that  were  yet  the  question,  I  would  with  all  my  heart  give  my  con- 
sent that  the  Bishop  of  Rome  should  have  the  first  seat.  '  There  is  a  remarkable  letter  on 
this  subject  written  by  James  to  Charles  and  Buckingham,  when  they  were  in  Spain. 
Heylyn,  speaking  of  Laud*s  negotiation  with  Rome,  says  :  "  So  that  upon  the  point  the 
Pope  was  to  content  himself  among  us  in  England  with  a  priority  instead  of  a  superiority 
over  other  Bishops,  and  with  a  primacy  instead  of  a  supremacy  in  these  parts  of  Chris- 
tendom, which  I  conceiT*  no  man  of  learning  and  aobriety  would  hav«  grudged  to  grant 
hiro." 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


S9t 


tribunal  t\efore  which  he  is  tried  for  a  violation  of  his  allegiance 

is  not  to  go  into  the  question  whether  that  case  has  arisen  ? 

The  question  of  the  dispensing  power  was  treated  in  a  very 
different  manner,  was  fully  considered,  and  was  finally  settled 
in  the  only  way  in  which  it  could  be  settled.  The  Declaration 
of  Right  had  gone  no  farther  than  to  pronounce  that  the  dis- 
pensing power,  as  of  late  exercised,  was  illegal.  That  a  certain 
dispensing  power  belonged  to  the  Crown  was  a  proposition 
sanctioned  by  authorities  and  precedents  of  which  even  Whig 
lawyers  could  not  speak  without  respect :  but  as  to  the  precise 
extent  of  this  power  hardly  any  two  jurists  were  agreed  ;  and 
every  attempt  to  frame  a  definition  had  failed.  At  length  by 
the  Bill  of  Rights  the  anomalous  prerogative  which  had  caused 
so  many  fierce  disputes  was  absolutely  and  forever  taken  away,* 

In  the  House  of  Commons  there  was,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  a  series  of  sharp  debates  on  the  misfortunes  of  the 
autumn.  The  negligence  or  corruption  of  the  Navy  Board,  the 
frauds  of  the  contractors,  the  rapacity  of  the  captains  of  the 
King's  ship,  the  losses  of  the  London  merchants,  were  themes 
for  many  keen  speeches.  There  was  indeed  reason  for  anger. 
A  severe  inquiry,  conducted  by  William  in  person  at  the 
Treasury,  had  just  elicited  the  fact  that  much  of  the  salt  with 
which  the  meat  furnished  to  the  fleet  had  been  cured  had  been 
by  accident  mixed  with  galls  such  as  are  used  for  the  purpose 
of  making  ink.  The  victuallers  threw  the  blame  on  the  rats, 
and  maintained  that  the  provisions  thus  seasoned,  chough 
certainly  disagreeable  to  the  palate,  were  not  injurious  to 
health, t  The  Commons  were  in  no  temper  to  listen  to  such 
excuses.  Several  persons  who  had  been  concerned  in  cheating 
the  government  and  poisoning  the  seamen  were  taken  into 
custody  by  the  Sergeant.|  But  no  censure  was  passed  on  the 
chief  offender,  Torrington ;  nor  does  it  appear  that  a  single 
Voice  was  raised  against  him.  He  had  personal  friends  in  both 
parties.  He  had  many  popular  qualities.  Even  his  vices 
were  not  those  which  excite  public  hatred.  The  people 
readily  forgave  a  courageous  open-handed  sailor  for  being  too 
fond  of  his  bottle,  his  boon  companions,  and  his  mistresses, 
and  did  not  sufficiently  consider  how  great  must  be  the  perils 
ot  a  country  of  which  the  safety  depends  on  a  man  sunk 
in  indolence,  stupefied  by  wine,  enervated  by  licentiousness, 
ruined  by  prodigality,  and  enslaved  by  sycophants  and  harlots. 


*  Stat.  1  W.  &  M.  sess.  3,  c.  a. 

t  Treasury  Minute  Book,  Nov.  3,  16%, 

X  Commons*  Journals  and  Grey^s  Debate*,  Nov.  13, 14,  18..  t%  as»  9%  1689, 


HISTORY  or  ENGLAND. 


The  sufferings  of  the  army  in  Ireland  called  forth  strong  et* 

pressions  of  sympathy  and  indignation.  The  Commons  did 
justice  to  the  firmness  and  wisdom  with  which  Schomberg  had 
conducted  the  most  arduous  of  all  campaigns.  That  he  had 
not  achieved  more  was  attributed  chiefly  to  the  villainy  of  the 
Commissariat.  The  pestilence  itself,  it  was  said,  would  have 
been  no  serious  calamity  if  it  had  not  been  aggravated  by  the 
wickedness  of  man.  The  disease  had  generally  spared  those 
who  had  warm  garments  and  bedding,  and  had  swept  away  by 
thousands  those  who  were  thinly  clad  and  who  slept  on  the 
wet  ground.  Immense  sums  had  been  drawn  out  of  the 
Treasury ;  yet  the  pay  of  the  troops  was  in  arrear.  Hundreds 
of  horses,  tens  of  thousands  of  shoes,  had  been  paid  for  by  the 
public  :  yet  the  baggage  was  left  behind  for  want  of  beasts  to 
draw  it :  and  the  soldiers  were  marching  barefoot  through  the 
mire.  Seventeen  hundred  pounds  had  been  charged  to  the 
government  for  medicines  ;  yet  the  common  drugs  with  which 
every  apothecary  in  the  smallest  market  town  was  provided, 
were  not  to  be  found  in  the  plague-stricken  camp.  The  cry 
against  Shales  was  loud.  An  address  was  carried  to  the  throne, 
requesting  that  he  might  be  sent  for  to  England,  and  that  his 
accounts  and  papers  might  be  secured.  With  this  request  the 
King  readily  complied :  but  the  Whig  majority  was  not  satis- 
fied. By  whom  had  Shales  been  recommended  for  so  impor- 
tant a  place  as  that  of  Commissary  General  ?  He  had  been  a 
favorite  at  Whitehall  in  the  worst  times.  He  had  been  zeal- 
ous for  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence.  Why  had  this  creature 
of  James  been  entrusted  with  the  business  of  catering  for  the 
army  of  William  ?  It  was  proposed  by  some  of  those  who  were 
bent  on  driving  all  Tories  and  Trimmers  from  office  to  ask 
His  Majesty  by  whose  advice  a  man  so  undeserving  of  the 
royal  confidence  had  been  employed.  The  most  moderate  and 
judicious  Whigs  pointed  out  the  indecency  and  impolicy  of  in- 
terrogating the  King,  and  of  forcing  him  either  to  accuse  his 
ministers  or  to  quarrel  with  the  representatives  of  his  people. 

Advise  His  Majesty,  if  you  will,'*  said  Somers,  "  to  withdraw 
his  confidence  from  the  counsellors  who  recommended  this  un- 
fortunate appointment  Such  advice,  given,  as  we  should  prob- 
ably give  it,  unanimously,  must  have  great  weight  with  him. 
But  do  not  put  to  him  a  question  such  as  no  private  gentleman 
would  willingly  answer.  Do  not  force  him,  in  defence  of  his 
own  personal  dignity,  to  protect  the  very  men  whom  you  wish 
him  to  discard."  After  a  hard  fight  of  two  days,  and  several 
divisions^  the  address  was  carried  by  a  hundred  and  ainetjr  five 


WitLUM  AN1>  MAHY. 


m 


rotes  to  a  hundred  and  forty-six.*  The  King,  as  might  have 
been  foreseen^  coldly  refused  to  turn  informer ;  and  the  House 
did  not  press  him  further.f  To  another  address  which  request- 
ed that  a  Comniission  might  be  sent  to  examine  int?o  the  state 
of  things  in  Ireland,  William  returned  a  very  gracious  answer, 
and  desired  the  Commons  to  name  the  Commissioners.  The 
Commons,  not  to  be  outdone  in  courtesy,  excused  themselves, 
and  left  it  to  His  Majesty's  wisdom  to  select  the  fittest 
persons.^ 

In  the  midst  of  the  angry  debates  on  the  Irish  war  a  pleas- 
ing incident  produced  for  a  moment  good  humor  and  unanim- 
ity. Walker  had  arrived  in  London,  and  had  been  received 
there  with  boundless  enthusiasm.  His  face  was  in  every  print 
shopo  Newsletters  describing  his  person  and  his  demeanor 
were  sent  to  every  corner  of  the  kingdom.  Broadsides  of 
prose  and  verse  written  in  his  praise  were  cried  in  every  street. 
The  Companies  of  London  feasted  him  splendidly  in  their 
halls.  The  common  people  crowded  to  gaze  on  him  wherever 
he  moved,  and  almost  stifled  him  with  rough  caresses.  Both 
the  Universities  offered  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity. 
Some  of  his  admirers  advised  him  to  present  himself  at  the 
palace  in  that  military  garb  in  which  he  had  repeatedly  headed 
the  sallies  of  his  fellow-townsmen.  But,  with  a  better  judg- 
ment than  he  sometimes  showed,  he  made  his  appearance  at 
Hampton  Court  in  the  peaceful  robe  of  his  profesion,  was  most 
graciously  received,  and  was  presented  with  an  order  for  five 
thousand  pounds.  And  do  not  think.  Doctor,"  William  said, 
with  great  benignity,  "  that  I  offer  you  this  sum  as  payment  for 
your  services.  I  assure  you  that  I  consider  your  claims  on  me 
as  not  at  all  diminished.''§ 

It  is  true  that  amidst  the  general  applause  the  voice  of  de- 
traction made  itself  heard.  The  defenders  of  Londonderry 
were  men  of  two  nations  and  of  two  religions.  During  the 
siege,  hatred  of  the  Irishry  had  held  together  all  Saxons ;  and 
hatred  of  Popery  had  held  together  all  Protestants.  But,  when 
the  danger  was  over,  the  Englishman  and  the  Scotchman,  the 
Episcopalian  and  the  Presbyterian,  began  to  wrangle  about 
the  distribution  of  praises  and  awards.     The  dissenting 


•  Commons*  Journals  and  Grey's  Debates,  Nov.  26,  and  27,  i689. 

t  Commons*  Journals,  November  28,  December  2,  1689. 

t  Commons'  Journals  and  Grey's  Debates,  November  30,  December  s,  1689. 

J  London  Gaiette,  September  2,  1689 ;  Observations  upon  Mr.  Walker's  Account  ol 
the  Siege  of  Londonderry,  lieenaed  October  f\  1689  ;  Luttrell's  Diary  •  Mr.  h 
Mackenzie's  Narrativd  a  False  Libe)  a  De£«iic<»  4  Mr.  G»  WaU^er  written  Hjfh^  FricH 
la  his  Abseacey  i6go» 


394 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAKlS 


preachers,  who  had  zealously  assisted  Walker  in  the  hour  of 
peril,  complained  that,  in  the  account  which  he  had  published 
of  the  siege,  he  had,  though  acknowledging  that  they  had  done 
good  service,  omitted  to  mention  their  names.  The  complaint 
was  just,  and,  had  it  been  made  in  a  manner  becoming  Chris- 
tians and  gentlemen,  would  probably  have  produced  a  consid- 
erable effect  on  the  public  mind.  But  Walker's  accusers  in 
their  resentment  disregarded  truth  and  decency,  used  scurril- 
ous language,  brought  calumnious  accusations  which  were  tri- 
umphantly refuted,  and  thus  threw  away  the  advantage  which 
they  had  possessed.  Walker  defended  himself  with  modera- 
tion and  candor.  His  friends  fought  his  battle  with  vigor, 
and  retaliated  keenly  on  his  assailants.  At  Edinburgh  per- 
haps the  public  opinion  might  have  been  against  him.  But  in 
London  the  controversy  seems  only  to  have  raised  his  charac- 
ter. He  was  regarded  as  an  Anglican  divine  of  eminent  merit, 
who,  after  having  heroically  defended  his  religion  against  an 
army  of  Irish  Rapparees,  was  rabbled  by  a  mob  of  Scotch 
Covenanters.''^ 

He  presented  to  the  Commons  a  petition  setting  forth  the 
destitute  condition  to  which  the  widows  and  orphans  of  some 
brave  men  who  had  fallen  during  the  siege  were  now  reduced. 
The  Commons  instantly  passed  a  vote  of  thanks  to  him,  and 
resolved  to  present  to  the  King  an  address  requesting  that  ten 
thousands  pounds  might  be  distributed  among  the  families 
whose  sufferings  had  been  so  touchingly  described.  The  next 
day  it  was  rumored  about  the  benches  that  Walker  was  in  the 
lobby.  He  was  called  in.  The  Speaker,  with  great  dignity 
and  grace,  informed  him  that  the  House  had  made  haste  to 
comply  with  his  request,  commended  him  in  high  terms  for 
having  taken  on  himself  to  govern  and  defend  a  city  betrayed 
by  its  proper  governors  and  defenders,  and  charged  him  to 
tell  those  who  had  fought  under  him  that  their  fidelity  and 
valor  would  always  be  held  in  grateful  remembrance  by  the 
Commons  of  England.f 

About  the  same  time  the  course  of  parliamentary  business 
was  diversified  by  another  curious  and  interesting  episode. 


Walker's  True  Account,  1689  ;  An  Apology  for  the  Failures  charged  on  the  Tru^ 
Account,  1689  ;  Reflections  on  the  Apology,  1689  ;  A  Vindication  of  the  True  Account  by 
Walker,  1689  ;  Mackenzie's  Narrative^  1690  :  Mr.  Mackenzie's  Narrative  a  False  Libel, 
1690  ;  Dr.  Walker's  Invisible  Champion  foyled  by  Mackenzie,  1690  ;  Welwood's  Mer- 
curius  Reformatus,  Dec.  4,  and  11,  1689.  The  Oxford  editor  of  Burnet's  History  expresses 
hia  surprise  at  the  silence  which  the  Bishop  observes  about  Walker.  In  the  Burnet  MS. 
Harl,  6584,  there  is  an  animated  panegyric  on  Walker.  Why  that  panegyric  doeft  nH 
appear  in  the  History  I  am  at  a  loss  to  explain. 

t  Conuaoiu'  JeumaUf  November  t8  and  ig,  1689  ;  and  Gra/a  P«bak»i« 


WILLIAM  AlS>  MARTT  39$ 

which,  like  the  former,  sprang  out  of  the  events  of  the  Irish 
war.  In  the  preceding  spring,  when  every  messenger  from 
Ireland  brought  evil  tidings,  and  when  t^e  authority  of  James 
was  acknowledged  in  every  part  of  that  kingdom,  except  behind 
the  ramparts  of  Londonderry  and  on  the  banks  of  Lough  Erne, 
it  was  natural  that  Englishmen  should  remember  with  how 
terrible  an  energy  the  great  Puritan  warriors  of  the  preceding 
generation  had  crushed  the  insurrection  of  the  Celtic  race. 
The  names  of  Cromwell,  of  Ireton,  and  of  the  other  chiefs  of 
the  conquering  army,  were  in  many  mouths.  One  of  those 
chiefs,  Edmund  Ludlow,  was  still  living  At  twenty-two  he 
had  served  as  a  volunteer  in  the  parliamentary  army :  at  thirty 
he  had  risen  to  the  rank  of  Lieutenant-General.  He  was  now 
old  :  but  the  vigor  of  his  mind  was  unimpaired.  His  courage 
was  of  the  truest  temper ;  his  understanding  strong,  but  nar- 
row. What  he  saw  he  saw  clearly :  but  he  saw  not  much  at  a 
glance.  In  an  age  of  perfidy  and  levity,  he  had,  amidst  mani- 
fold temptations  and  dangers,  adhered  firmly  to  the  principles 
of  his  youth.  His  enemies  could  not  deny  that  his  life  had 
been  consistent,  and  that  with  the  same  spirit  with  which  he 
had  stood  up  against  the  Stuarts  he  had  stood  up  against  the 
Cromwells.  There  was  but  a  single  blemish  on  his  fame, 
but  that  blemish,  in  the  opinion  of  the  great  majority  of  his 
countrymen,  was  one  for  which  no  merit  could  compensate 
and  which  no  time  could  efface.  His  name  and  seal  were  on 
the  death  warrant  of  Charles  the  First. 

After  the  Restoration,  Ludlow  found  a  refuge  on  the  shores 
of  the  Lake  of  Geneva.  He  was  accompanied  thither  by  an- 
other  member  of  the  High  Court  of  Justice,  John  Lisle,  the 
husband  of  that  Alice  Lisle  whose  death  has  left  a  lasting  stain 
on  the  memory  of  James  the  Second.  But  even  in  Switzer- 
land  the  regicides  were  not  safe.  A  large  price  was  set  on 
their  heads ;  and  a  succession  of  Irish  adventurers,  inflamed 
by  national  and  religious  animosity,  attempted  to  earn  the 
bribe.  Lisle  fell  by  the  hand  of  one  of  these  assassins.  But 
Ludlow  escaped  unhurt  from  all  the  machinations  of  his 
enemies.  A  small  knot  of  vehement  and  determined  Whigs 
regarded  him  with  a  veneration,  which  increased  as  years 
rolled  away,  and  left  him  almost  the  only  survivor,  certainly 
the  most  illustrious  survivor,  of  a  mighty  race  of  men,  the  con- 
querors in  a  terrible  civil  war,  the  judges  of  a  king,  the 
founders  of  a  republic.  More  than  once  he  had  been  invited 
by  the  enemies  of  the  House  of  Stuart  to  leave  his  asylum,  to 
become  their  captain,  and  to  give  the  signal  for  rebellion ;  but 


39* 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANa 


he  had  wisely  refused  to  take  any  part  in  the  desperate  enter, 
prises  which  the  Wildmans  and  Fergusons  were  never  weary 
of  planning,* 

The  Revolution  opened  a  new  prospect  to  him.  The  right 
of  the  people  to  resist  oppression,  a  right  which,  during  many 
years,  no  man  could  assert  without  exposing  himself  to  eccle- 
siastical anathemas  and  to  civil  penalties,  had  been  solemnly 
recognized  by  the  Estates  of  the  realm,  and  had  been  pro- 
claimed by  Garter  King  at  Arms  on  the  very  spot  where  the 
memorable  scaffold  had  been  set  up  forty  years  before.  James 
had  not,  indeed,  like  Charles,  died  the  death  of  a  traitor.  Yet 
the  punishment  of  the  son  might  seem  to  differ  from  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  father  rather  in  degree  than  in  principle.  Those 
who  had  recently  waged  war  on  a  tyrant,  who  had  turned  him 
out  of  his  palace,  who  had  frightened  him  out  of  his  country, 
who  had  deprived  him  of  his  crown,  might  perhaps  think  that  the 
crime  of  going  one  step  further  had  been  sufficiently  expiated 
by  thirty  years  of  banishment,  Ludlow's  admirers,  some  of 
whom  appear  to  have  been  in  high  public  situations,  assured 
him  that  he  might  safely  venture  over,  nay,  that  he  might  ex- 
pect to  be  sent  in  high  command  to  Ireland,  where  his  name 
was  still  cherished  by  his  old  soldiers  and  by  their  children,  t 
He  came  :  and  early  in  September  it  was  known  that  he  was 
in  London.J  But  it  soon  appeared  that  he  and  his  friends  had 
misunderstood  the  temper  of  the  English  people.  By  all,  ex- 
cept a  small  extreme  section  of  the  Whig  party,  the  act,  in 
which  he  had  borne  a  part  never  to  be  forgotten,  was  regarded 
not  merely  with  the  disapprobation  due  to  a  great  violation  of 
law  and  justice,  but  with  horror  such  as  even  the  Gunpowder 
Plot  had  not  excited.  The  absurd  and  almost  impious  service 
which  is  still  read  in  our  churches  on  the  thirtieth  of  January 
had  produced  in  the  minds  of  the  vulgar  a  strange  association 
of  ideas.  The  sufferings  of  Charles  were  confounded  with  the 
sufferings  of  the  Redeemer  of  mankind ;  and  every  regicide 
was  a  Judas,  a  Caiaphas,  or  a  Herod.  It  was  true  that,  when 
Ludlow  sate  on  the  tribunal  in  Westminster  Hall,  he  was  an 
ardent  enthusiast  of  twenty-eight,  and  that  he  now  returned 
from  exile  a  gray-headed  and  wrinkled  man  in  his  seventieth 
year.  Perhaps,  therefore,  if  he  had  been  content  to  live  in 
close  retirement,  and  to  shun  places  of  public  resort,  even 

•  Wade's  Confession,  Harl.  MS.  6845. 

t  See  the  Preface  to  the  First  Edition  of  his  Memoirs,  Vevay,  1098.  i»  •  j« 

I  "  Colonel  Ludlow,  an  old  Oliverian,  and  one  of  King  Charges  the  Firat  q&JMM 
li  arrM  lately  lo  this  kingdom  Irom  Swiuerkud.^   >iarcissu8  i^uttreU't  Oiaqit,  [m^m 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


397 


i€alous  Royalists  might  not  have  grudged  the  old  Republican 

a  grave  in  his  native  soil.  But  he  had  no  thought  of  hiding 
himself.  It  was  soon  rumored  that  one  of  those  murderers, 
who  had  brought  on  England  guilt,  for  which  she  annually,  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes,  implored  God  not  to  enter  into  judgment 
with  her,  was  strutting  about  the  streets  of  her  capital  and 
boasting  that  he  should  ere  long  command  her  armies.  His 
lodgings,  it  was  said,  were  the  headquarters  of  the  most  noted 
enemies  of  monarchy  and  episcopacy."*  The  subject  was 
brought  before  the  House  of  Commons.  The  Tory  members 
called  loudly  for  justice  on  the  traitor.  None  of  the  Whigs 
ventured  to  say  a  word  in  his  defence.  One  or  two  faintly  ex- 
pressed a  doubt  whether  the  fact  of  his  return  had  been  proved 
by  evidence  such  as  would  warrant  a  parliamentary  proceed- 
ing. This  objection  was  disregarded.  It  was  resolved,  with- 
out a  division,  that  the  King  should  be  requested  to  issue  a 
proclamation  for  the  apprehending  of  Ludlow.  Seymour 
presented  the  address  ;  and  the  King  promised  to  do  what  was 
asked.  Some  days  however  elapsed  before  the  proclamation 
appeared.f  Ludlow  had  time  to  make  his  escape,  and  hid 
himself  in  his  Alpine  retreat,  never  again  to  emerge.  English 
travellers  are  still  taken  to  see  his  house  close  to  the  lake,  and 
his  tomb  in  a  church  among  the  vineyards  which  overlook  the 
little,  town  of  Vevay.  On  the  house  was  formerly  legible  an 
inscription  purporting  that  to  him  to  whom  God  is  a  father 
every  land  is  a  fatherland  ;  f  and  the  epitaph  on  the  tomb  still 
attests  the  feelings  with  which  the  stern  old  Puritan  to  the  last 
regarded  the  people  of  Ireland  and  the  House  of  Stuart. 

Tories  and  Whigs  had  concurred,  or  had  affected  to  con- 
cur, in  paying  honor  to  Walker  and  in  putting  a  brand  on 
Ludlow.  But  the  feud  between  the  two  parties  was  more 
bitter  than  ever.  The  King  had  entertained  a  hope  that, 
during  the  recess,  the  animosities  which  had  in  the  preceding 
session  prevented  an  Act  of  Indemnity  from  passing  would 
have  been  mitigated.  On  the  day  on  which  the  Houses  re- 
assembled, he  had  pressed  them  earnestly  to  put  an  end  to 
the  fear  and  discord  which  could  never  cease  to  exist,  while 
great  numbers  held  their  property  and  their  liberty,  and  not 
a  few  even  their  lives,  by  an  uncertain  tenure.    His  exhorta- 

*  Third  Caveat  against  the  Whigs,  1712. 

t  Commons*  Journals,  November  6  and  8,  1689  ;  Grey's  Debates  ;  London  Gazette, 
November  18. 

t  Omne  solum  forti  patria,  quia  patris.'*  See  Addison's  Travels.  It  it  a  remarkable 
circumstance  that  Addison,  though  a  Whig,  speaks  of  Ludlow  in  language  which  would 
Vttei^  have  become  a  Yoij*  and  sneers  at  the  inscription  as  €aaU 


398 


HISTORY  or  ENGLAND. 


tion  proved  of  no  effect.     October,  November,  December 

passed  away ;  and  nothing  was  done.  An  Indemnity  Bill 
indeed  had  been  brought  in,  and  read  once  :  but  it  had  ever 
since  lain  neglected  on  the  table  of  the  House.^  Vindictive 
as  had  been  the  mood  in  which  the  Whigs  had  left  West- 
minster, the  mood  in  which  they  returned  was  more  vindictive 
still.  Smarting  from  old  sufferings,  drunk  with  recent  pros- 
perity, burning  with  implacable  resentment,  confident  of 
irresistible  strength,  they  were  not  less  rash  and  headstrong 
than  in  the  days  of  the  Exclusion  Bill.  Sixteen  hundred  and 
eighty  was  come  again.  Again  all  compromise  was  rejected. 
Again  the  voices  of  the  wisest  and  most  upright  friends  of 
liberty  were  drowned  by  the  clamor  of  hotheaded  and  design- 
ing agitators.  Again  moderation  was  despised  as  cowardice, 
or  execrated  as  treachery.  All  the  lessons  taught  by  a  cruel 
experience  were  forgotten.  The  very  same  men  who  had 
expiated,  by  years  of  humiliation,  of  imprisonment,  of  penury, 
of  exile,  the  folly  with  which  they  had  misused  the  advantage 
given  them  by  the  Popish  plot,  now  misused  with  equal  folly 
the  advantage  given  them  by  the  Revolution.  The  second 
madness  would  in  all  probability,  like  the  first,  have  ended 
in  their  proscription,  dispersion,  decimation,  but  for  the 
magnanimity  and  wisdom  of  that  great  prince,  who,  bent  on 
fulfilling  his  mission,  and  insensible  alike  to  flattery  and 
to  outrage,  coldly  and  inflexibly  saved  them  in  their  own 
despite. 

It  seemed  that  nothing  but  blood  would  satisfy  them.  ^  The 
aspect  and  the  temper  of  the  House  of  Commons  reminded 
men  of  the  time  of  the  ascendency  of  Gates  ;  and  that  nothing 
might  be  wanting  to  the  resemblance.  Gates  himself  was  there. 
As  a  witness,  indeed,  he  could  now  render  no  service  :  but  he 
had  caught  the  scent  of  carnage,  and  came  to  gloat  on  the 
butchery  in  which  he  could  no  longer  take  an  active  part. 
His  loathsome  features  were  again  daily  seen,  and  his  well 
known  Ah  Laard,  ah  Laard  1"  was  again  daily  heard  in  the 
lobbies  and  in  the  gallery,  f  The  House  fell  first  on  the 
renegades  of  the  late  reign.  Gf  those  renegades  the  Earls  of 
Peterborough  and  Salisbury  were  the  highest  in  rank,  but 
were  also  the  lowest  in  intellect :  for  Salisbury  had  always 
been  an  idiot ;  and  Peterborough  had  long  been  a  dotard. 
It  was  however  resolved  by  the  Commons  that  both  had,  by 
joining  the  Church  of  Rome,  committed  high  treason,  and 


♦  Commons*  Journals,  Nov.  i,  7.  1680. 
t  Rogex  North's  Life  ol  Dudley  North. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


399 


that  both  should  be  impeached,  *  A  message  to  that  effect 
was  sent  to  the  Lords.  Poor  old  Peterborough  was  instantly 
taken  into  custody  and  was  sent  tottering  on  a  crutch,  and 
wrapped  up  in  woollen  stuffs,  to  the  Tower.  The  next  day 
Salisbury  was  brought  to  the  bar  of  his  peers.  He  muttered 
something  about  his  youth  and  liis  foreign  education,  and  was 
then  sent  to  bear  Peterborough  company,  f  The  Commons 
had  meanwhile  passed  on  to  offenders  of  humbler  station  and 
better  understanding.  Sir  Edward  Hales  was  brought  before 
them.  He  had  doubtless,  by  holding  office  in  defiance  of  the 
Test  Act,  incurred  heavy  penalties.  But  these  penalties  fell 
far  short  of  what  the  revengeful  spirit  of  the  victorious  party 
demanded ;  and  he  was  committed  as  a  traitor,  t  Then 
Obadiah  Walker  was  led  in.  He  behaved  with  a  pusillanimity 
and  disingenuousness,  which  deprived  him  of  all  claim  to 
respect  or  pity.  He  protested  that  he  had  never  changed  his 
religion,  that  his  opinions  had  always  been  and  still  were 
those  of  some  highly  respectable  divines  of  the  Church  of 
England,  and  that  there  were  points  on  which  he  differed  from 
the  Papists.  In  spite  of  this  quibbling,  he  was  pronounced 
guilty  of  high  treason,  and  sent  to  prison.  §  Then  Castle- 
maine  was  put  to  the  bar,  interrogated,  and  committed  under 
a  warrant  which  charged  him  with  the  capital  crime  of  trying 
to  reconcile  the  kingdom  to  the  Church  of  Rome.|| 

In  the  meantime  the  Lords  had  appointed  a  Committee  to 
inquire  who  were  answerable  for  the  deaths  of  Russell,  of 
Sidney,  and  of  some  other  eminent  Whigs.  Of  this  committee, 
which  was  popularly  called  the  Murder  Committee,  the  Earl  of 
Stamford,  a  Whig  who  had  been  deeply  concerned  in  the  plots 
formed  by  his  party  against  the  Stuarts,  was  chairman.lT 
The  books  of  the  Council  were  inspected :  the  clerks  of  the 
Council  were  examined :  some  facts  disgraceful  to  the  Judges, 
to  the  Solicitors  of  the  Treasury;  to  the  witnesses  for  the 
Crown,  and  to  the  keepers  of  the  state  prisons,  were  elicited  : 
but  about  the  packing  of  the  juries  no  evidence  could  be 
obtained.  The  Sheriffs  kept  their  own  counsel.  Sir  Dudley 
North,  in  particular,  underwent  a  most  severe  cross-examina- 


*  Commons*  Journals,  Oct.  26,  1689. 

t  Lords'  Journals,  October  26  and  27,  1689. 

t  Commons*  Journals,  Oct.  26,  1689. 

§  Commons*  Journals,  Oct.  26  1680  :  Wood's  Athenai  Oxonienses  ;  Dod's  Church 
History,  VIII.  ii.  3. 

R  Commons*  Toumals,  October  a8,  1689.  The  proccedingt  will  b«  found  In  the  oolIe»» 
tion  of  State  Trials. 

t  L*rdt*  JounialB,  Nov*  a  aD4  ^  1689. 


HISTORY  0?  ENGLANt). 


tion  with  chafacteristic  clearness  of  head  and  finnness 
temper,  and  steadily  asserted  that  he  had  never  troubled  him- 
self about  the  political  opinions  of  the  persons  whom  he  p\it 
on  any  panel,  but  had  merely  inquired  whether  they  were 
substantial  citizens.  He  was  undoubtedly  lying  ;  and  so  some 
of  the  Whig  peers  told  him  in  very  plain  words  and  in  very 
loud  tones  :  but,  though  they  were  morally  certain  of  his  guilt, 
they  could  find  no  proofs  which  would  support  a  criminal 
charge  against  him.  The  indelible  stain,  however,  remains  on 
his  memory,  and  is  still  a  subject  of  lamentation  to  those  who, 
while  loathing  his  dishonesty  and  cruelty,  cannot  forget  that 
he  was  one  of  the  most  original,  profound,  and  accurate 
thinkers  of  his  age.* 

Halifax,  more  fortunate  than  Dudley  North,  was  completely 
cleared,  not  only  from  legal,  but  also  from  moral  guilt.  He 
was  the  chief  object  of  attack ;  and  yet  a  severe  examination 
brought  nothing  to  light  that  was  not  to  his  honor.  Tillotson 
was  called  as  a  witness.  He  swore  that  he  had  been  the  chan- 
nel of  communication  between  Halifax  and  Russell  when 
Russell  was  a  prisioner  in  the  Tower.  My  Lord  Halifax,'*  said 
the  Doctor,  showed  a  very  compassionate  concern  for  my  Lord 
Russell :  and  my  Lord  Russell  charged  me  with  his  last  thanks 
for  my  Lord  Halifax's  humanity  and  kindness."  It  was  proved 
that  the  unfortunate  Duke  of  Monmouth  had  borne  similar  testi- 
mony to  Halifax's  good  nature.  One  hostile  witness  indeed  was 
produced,  John  Hampden,  whose  mean  supplications  and  enor- 
mous bribes  had  saved  his  neck  from  the  halter.  He  was  now 
a  powerful  and  prosperous  man :  he  was  a  leader  of  the  domi- 
nant party  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  yet  he  was  one  of 
the  most  unhappy  beings  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  re- 
collection of  the  pitiable  figure  which  he  had  made  at  the  bar 
of  the  Old  Bailey  embittered  his  temper  and  impelled  him  to 
avenge  himself  without  mercy  on  those  who  had  directly  or  in- 
directly contributed  to  his  humiliation.  Of  all  the  Whigs  he 
was  the  most  intolerant  and  the  most  obstinately  hostile  to  all 
plans  of  amnesty.  The  consciousness  that  he  had  disgraced 
himself  made  him  jealous  of  his  dignity  and  quick  to  take  of- 
fence. He  constantly  paraded  his  services  and  his  sufferings, 
as  if  he  hoped  that  this  ostentatious  display  would  hide  from 
others  the  stain  which  nothing  could  hide  from  himself.  Having 
during  many  months  harangued  vehemently  against  Halifax  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  he  now  came  to  swear  against  Halifax 


•  Lord*'  Journals,  Dec  to,  1689  ;  Life  of  Dudley  North. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


401 


before  the  Lords.  The  scene  was  curious.  The  witness  rep- 
resented himself  as  having  saved  his  country,  as  having  planned 
the  Revolution,  as  having  placed  Their  Majesties  on  the 
throne.  He  then  gave  evidence  intended  to  show  that  his  life 
had  been  endangered  by  the  machinations  of  the  Lord  Privy 
Seal :  but  that  evidence  missed  the  mark  at  which  it  was  aimed, 
and  recoiled  on  him  from  whom  it  proceeded.  Hampden  was 
forced  to  acknowledge  that  he  had  sent  his  wife  to  implore  the 
intercession  of  the  man  whom  he  was  now  persecuting.  "  Is  it 
not  strange,"  asked  Halifax,  "  that  you  should  have  requested 
the  good  offices  of  one  whose  arts  had  brought  your  head  into 
peril  ?  "  Not  at  all,"  said  Hampden :  "  to  whom  was  I  to 
apply  except  to  the  men  who  were  in  power  ?  I  applied  to  Lord 
Jeffreys  :  I  applied  to  Father  Petre ;  and  I  paid  them  six 
thousand  pounds  for  their  services."  "  But  did  Lord  Halifax 
take  any  money  ?  "  "  No  :  I  cannot  say  that  he  did."  "  And, 
Mr.  Hampden,  did  not  you  afterwards  send  your  wife  to  thank 
him  for  his  kindness  ? "  "  Yes  :  I  believe  I  did,"  answered 
Hampden  ;  but  I  know  of  no  solid  effects  of  that  kindness. 
If  there  were  any,  I  should  be  obliged  to  my  Lord  to  tell  me 
what  they  were."  Disgraceful  as  had  been  the  appearance 
which  this  degenerate  heir  of  an  illustrious  name  had  made  at 
the  Old  Bailey,  the  appearance  which  he  made  before  the  Com- 
mittee of  Murder  was  more  disgraceful  still.*  It  is  pleasing  to 
know  that  a  person  who  had  been  far  more  cruelly  wronged 
than  he,  but  whose  nature  differed  widely  from  his,  the  noble- 
minded  Lady  Russell,  remonstrated  against  the  injustice  with 
which  the  extreme  Whigs  treated  Halifax.f 

The  malice  of  John  Hampden,  however,  was  unwearied 
and  unabashed.  A  few  days  later,  in  a  committee  of  the  whole 
House  of  Commons,  on  the  state  of  the  nation,  he  made  a 
bitter  speech,  in  which  he  ascribed  all  the  disasters  of  the  year 
to  the  influence  of  the  men  who  had,  in  the  day  of  the  Exclu- 
A  sion  Bill,  been  censured  by  Parliaments,  of  the  men  who  had 
attempted  to  mediate  between  James  and  William.  The  King, 
he  said,  ought  to  dismiss  from  his  counsels  and  presence  all 
the  three  noblemen  who  had  been  sent  to  negotiate  with  him  at 
Hungerford.  He  went  on  to  speak  of  the  danger  of  employing 
men  of  republican  principles.  He  doubtless  alluded  to  the 
chief  object  of  his  implacable  malignity.    For  Halifax,  though 


*  The  report  is  in  the  Lords*  Journals,  Dec.  20,  1689.  Hampden's  examination  was  oA 
the  1 8th  of  November. 

t  This.  I  think,  is  clear,  from  a  letter  of  Lady  Montague  to  Lady  Russell,  dated  Pef* 
33.  j68o.  three  days  after  the  Cpmflaittee  of  Murder  had  tepoxUi^ 


402 


mSTORV  OF  ENGLAND. 


from  temper  averse  to  violent  changes,  was  well  known  ti  %m 

in  speculation  a  republican,  and  often  talked,  with  much  Wtge* 
nuity  and  pleasantry,  against  hereditary  monarchy.  Th*  only 
effect,  however,  of  the  reflection  now  thrown  on  him  waw  to  call 
forth  a  roar  of  derision.  That  a  Hampden,  that  the  grandson 
of  the  great  leader  of  the  Long  Parliament,  that  a  man  who 
boasted  of  having  conspired  with  Algernon  Sidney  against  the 
royal  House,  should  use  the  word  republican  as  a.  term  of  re- 
proach !  When  the  storm  of  laughter  had  subsided,  several 
members  stood  up  to  vindicate  the  accused  statesman.  Sey- 
mour declared  that,  much  as  he  disapproved  oi  the  manner  in 
which  the  administration  had  lately  been  conducted,  he  could 
not  concur  in  the  vote  which  John  Hampden  had  proposed. 
"  Look  where  you  will,"  he  said,  "  to  Ireland,  to  Scotland,  to 
the  navy,  to  the  army,  you  will  find  abundant  proofs  of  misman- 
agement. If  the  war  is  still  to  be  conducted  by  the  same  hands, 
we  can  expect  nothing  but  a  recurrence  of  the  same  disasters. 
But  I  am  not  prepared  to  proscribe  men  for  the  best  thing  that 
they  ever  did  in  their  lives,  to  proscribe  men  for  attempting  to 
avert  a  revolution  by  timely  mediation.'*  It  was  justly  said  by 
another  speaker  that  Halifax  and  Nottingham  had  been  sent  to 
the  Dutch  camp  because  they  possessed  the  confidence  of  the  na- 
tion,because  they  were  universally  known  to  be  hostile  to  the  dis- 
pensing power,  to  the  Popish  religion,  and  to  the  French  ascen- 
dency. It  was  at  length  resolved  that  the  King  should  be  re- 
quested in  general  terms  to  find  out  and  remove  the  authors  of 
the  late  miscarriages."^  A  committee  was  appointed  to  prepare 
an  address.  John  Hampden  was  chairman,  and  drew  up  a  rep- 
resentation in  terms  so  bitter  that,  when  it  was  reported  to 
the  House,  his  own  father  expressed  disapprobation,  and  one 
member  exclaimed  :  This  an  address  !  It  is  a  libel."  After  a 
sharp  debate,  the  Address  was  recommitted,  and  was  not  again 
mentioned.! 

Indeed,  the  animosity  which  a  large  part  of  the  House  had 
felt  against  Halifax  was  beginning  to  abate.  It  was  known 
that,  though  he  had  not  yet  formally  delivered  up  the  Privy 
Seal,  he  had  ceased  to  be  a  confidential  adviser  of  the  Crown. 
The  power  which  he  had  enjoyed  during  the  first  months  of  the 
reign  of  William  and  Mary  had  passed  to  the  more  daring,  more 
tmscrupulous,  and  more  practical  Caermarthen,  against  whose 
influence  Shrewsbury  contended  in  vain.    Personally  Shrews- 


*  Commons*  Journals,  Dec.  14,  1689  :  Grey's  Debates  ;  Boyer*s  Life  of  William* 
t  Commons*  Journal*,  p«c.  ai  ;  Grey's  Debate*  ;  014»u^9lli» 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


bury  stood  high  in  the  royal  favor :  but  he  was  a  leader  of 
the  Whigs,  and,  like  all  leaders  of  parties,  was  frequently  pushed 
forward  against  his  will  by  those  who  seemed  to  follow  him. 
He  was  himself  inclined  to  a  mild  and  moderate  policy  :  but  he 
had  not  sufficient  firmness  to  withstand  the  clamorous  impor- 
tunity with  which  such  politicians  as  John  Howe  and  John 
Hampden  demanded  vengeance  on  their  enemies.  His  advice 
had  therefore,  at  this  time,  little  weight  with  his  master,  who 
neither  loved  the  Tories  nor  trusted  them,  but  who  was  fully 
determined  not  to  proscribe  them. 

Meanwhile  the  Whigs,  conscious  that  they  had  lately  sunk 
in  the  opinion  both  of  the  King  and  of  the  nation,  resolved  on 
making  a  bold  and  crafty  attempt  to  become  independent  of 
both.  A  perfect  account  of  that  attempt  cannot  be  constructed 
out  of  the  scanty  and  widely  dispersed  materials  which  have 
come  down  to  us.  Yet  the  story,  as  it  may  still  be  put  together, 
is  both  interesting  and  instructive. 

A  bill  for  restoring  the  rights  of  those  corporations  which 
had  surrendered  their  charters  to  the  Crown  during  the  last 
two  reigns  had  been  brought  into  the  House  of  Commons,  had 
been  received  with  general  applause  by  men  of  all  parties,  had 
been  read  twice,  and  had  been  referred  to  a  select  committee, 
of  which  Somers  was  chairman.  On  the  second  of  January 
Somers  brought  up  the  report.  The  attendance  of  Tories  was 
scanty;  for,  as  no  important  discussion  was  expected,  many 
country  gentlemen  had  left  town,  and  were  keeping  a  merry 
Christmas  by  the  blazing  chimneys  of  their  manor  house.  The 
muster  of  zealous  Whigs  was  strong.  As  soon  as  the  bill  had 
been  reported,  Sacheverell,  renowned  in  the  stormy  Parlia- 
ments of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second  as  one  of  the  ablest 
and  keenest  of  the  Exclusionists,  stood  up  and  moved  to  add  a 
clause  providing  that  every  municipal  functionary  who  had  in 
any  manner  been  a  party  to  the  surrendering  of  the  franchises 
of  a  borough  should  be  incapable  for  seven  years  of  holding 
any  office  in  that  borough.  The  constitution  of  almost  every 
corporate  town  in  England  had  been  remodelled  during  that 
hot  fit  of  loyalty  which  followed  the  detection  of  the  Rye  House 
Plot ;  and,  in  almost  every  corporate  town,  the  voice  of  the 
Tories  had  been  for  delivering  up  the  charter,  and  for  trusting 
everything  to  the  paternal  care  of  the  Sovereign.  The  effect 
of  SacheverelPs  clause,  therefore,  was  to  make  some  thousands 
of  the  most  opulent  and  highly  considered  men  in  the  kingdom 
incapable,  during  seven  years,  of  bearing  any  part  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  places  in  which  they  resided,  and  to  secure  to  th^ 


404 


HISTORY  OF  ENOLANDw 


Whig  party,  during  seven  years,  an  overwhelming  influence  in 

borough  elections. 

The  minority  exclaimed  against  the  gross  injustice  of  pass* 
ing  rapidly,  and  by  surprise,  at  a  season  when  London  was 
empty,  a  law  of  the  highest  importance,  a  law  which  retrospec* 
tively  inflicted  a  severe  penalty  on  many  hundreds  of  respectable 
gentlemen,  a  law  which  would  call  forth  the  strongest  passions 
in  every  town  from  Berwick  to  Saint  Ives,  a  law  which  must  have 
a  serious  effect  on  the  composition  of  the  House  itself.  Com- 
mon decency  required  at  least  an  adjournment.  An  adjourn- 
ment was  moved  :  but  the  motion  was  rejected  by  a  hundred 
and  twenty-seven  votes  to  eighty-nine.  The  question  was  then 
put  that  SacheverelFs  clause  should  stand  part  of  the  bill,  and 
was  carried  by  a  hundred  and  thirty-three  to  sixty-eight.  Sir 
Robert  Howard  immediately  moved  that  every  person  who, 
being  under  Sachevereirs  clause  disqualified  for  municipal 
office,  should  presume  to  take  any  such  office,  should  forfeit 
five  hundred  pounds,  and  should  be  for  life  incapable  of  hold- 
ing any  public  employment  whatever.  The  Tories  did  not 
venture  to  divide."*  The  rules  of  the  House  put  it  in  the  power 
of  a  minority  to  obstruct  the  progress  of  a  bill ;  and  this  was 
assuredly  one  of  the  very  rare  occasions  on  which  that  power 
would  have  been  with  great  propriety  exerted.  It  does  not 
appear  however  that  the  parliamentary  tacticians  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  were  aware  of  the  extent  to  which  a  small  number 
of  members  can,  without  violating  any  form,  retard  the  course 
of  business. 

It  was  immediately  resolved  that  the  bill,  enlarged  by 
Sachevereirs  and  Howard's  clauses,  should  be  engrossed.  The 
most  vehement  Whigs  were  bent  on  finally  passing  it  within 
forty-eigbt  hours.  The  Lords,  indeed,  were  not  likely  to  regard 
it  very  favorably.  But  it  should  seem  that  some  desperate  men 
were  prepared  to  withhold  the  supplies  till  it  should  pass,  nay, 
even  to  tack  it  to  the  bill  of  supply,  and  thus  to  place  the  Upper 
House  under  the  necessity  of  either  consenting  to  a  vast  pro- 
scription of  the  Tories  or  refusing  to  the  government  the  means 
of  carrying  on  the  war.f  There  were  Whigs,  however,  honest 
enough  to  wish  that  fair  play  should  be  given  to  the  hostile 
party,  and  prudent  enough  to  know  that  an  advantage  obtained 

*  Commons*  Journals,  Jan.  1689-go. 

t  Thus,  I  think,  must  be  understood  some  remarkable  words  in  a  letter  written  by 
William  to  Portland,  on  the  day  after  Sachevereirs  bold  and  unexpected  move.  William 
calcuiates  the  amount  of  the  supplies  and  then  says  :  "  S'ils  n*y  mettent  des  conditions 
que  vous  savez,  c*est  une  bonne  anaire  :  mais  les  Wiggds  font  si  glorieux  d'avoir  v*inc'4 
qu'ils  entreprendront  touU" 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


by  violence  and  cunning  could  not  be  permanent.    These  men 

insisted  that  at  least  a  week  should  be  suffered  to  elapse  before 
the  third  reading,  and  carried  their  point.  Their  less  scrupu- 
lous associates  com«plained  bitterly  that  the  good  cause  was 
betrayed.  What  new  laws  of  war  were  these  ?  Why  was 
chivalrous  courtesy  to  be  shown  to  foes  who  thought  no  strat- 
agem immoral,  and  who  had  never  given  quarter  ?  And  what 
had  been  done  that  was  not  in  strict  accordance  with  the  law 
of  Parliament  ?  That  law  knew  nothing  of  short  notices  and 
long  notices,  of  thin  houses  and  full  houses.  It  was  the  busi- 
ness of  a  representative  of  the  people  to  be  in  his  place.  If  he 
chose  to  shoot  and  giizzle  at  his  country  seat  when  important 
business  was  under  consideration  at  Westminster,  what  right 
had  he  to  murmur  because  more  upright  and  laborious  servants 
of  the  public  passed,  in  his  absence,  a  bill  which  appeared  to 
them  necessary  to  the  public  safety?  As  however  a  postpone- 
ment of  a  few  days  appeared  to  be  inevitable,  those  who  had 
intended  to  gain  the  victory  by  stealing  a  march  now  disclamed 
that  intention.  They  solemnly  assured  the  King,  who  could 
not  help  showing  some  displeasure  at  their  conduct,  and  who 
felt  much  more  displeasure  than  he  showed,  that  they  had  owed 
nothing  to  surprise,  and  that  they  were  quite  certain  of  a  ma- 
jority in  the  fullest  house.  Sacheverell  is  said  to  have  declared 
with  great  warmth  that  he  would  stake  his  seat  on  the  issue, 
and  that  if  he  found  himself  mistaken  he  would  never  show  his 
face  in  Parliament  again.  Indeed,  the  general  opinion  at  first 
was  that  the  Whigs  would  win  the  day.  But  it  soon  became 
clear  that  the  fight  would  be  a  hard  one.  The  mails  had  carried 
out  along  all  the  high  roads  the  tidings  that,  on  the  second  of 
January,  the  Commons  had  agreed  to  a  retrospective  penal  law 
against  the  whole  Tory  party,  and  that,  on  the  tenth,  that  law 
would  be  considered  for  the  last  time.  The  whole  kingdom  was 
moved  from  Northumberland  to  Cornwall.  A  hundred  knights 
and  squires  left  their  halls  hung  with  mistletoe  and  holly,  and 
their  boards  groaning  with  brawn  and  plum  porridge,  and  rode  up 
post  to  town,  cursing  the  short  days,  the  cold  weather,  the 
miry  roads,  and  the  villainous  Whigs.  The  Whigs,  too,  brought 
up  reinforcements,  but  not  to  the  same  extent ;  for  the  clauses 
were  generally  unpopular,  and  not  without  good  cause.  As- 
suredly no  reasonable  man  of  any  party  will  deny  that  the  Tories, 
in  surrendering  to  the  Crown  all  the  municipal  franchises  of 
the  realrn,  and,  with  those  franchises,  the  power  of  altering  the 
constitution  of  the  House  of  Commons,  committed  a  great 
fault.    But  in  that  fault  the  nation  itself  had  been  an  accom* 


4o6 


KISTORV  OP  BNGLAKOl. 


pHce.    If  the  Mayors  and  Aldermen  whom  it  was  now  proposed 

to  punish  had,  when  the  tide  of  loyal  enthusiasm  ran  high, 
sturdily  refused  to  comply  with  the  wish  of  their  Sovereign,  they 
would  have  been  pointed  at  in  the  street  as  Roundhead  knaves, 
preached  at  by  the  Rector,  lampooned  in  ballads,  and  prob- 
ably burned  in  effigy  before  their  own  doors.  That  a  com- 
munity should  be  hurried  into  errors  alternately  by  fear  of 
tyranny  and  by  fear  of  anarchy  is  doubtless  a  great  evil.  But 
the  remedy  for  that  evil  is  not  to  punish  for  such  errors  some 
persons  who  have  merely  erred  with  the  rest,  and  who  have 
since  repented  with  the  rest.  Nor  ought  it  to  have  been  for- 
gotten that  the  offenders  against  whom  SacheverelFs  clause  was 
directed  had,  in  1688,  made  large  atonement  for  the  misconduct 
of  which  they  had  been  guilty  in  i6S^.  They  had,  as  a  class, 
stood  up  firmly  against  the  dispensing  power ;  and  most  of 
them  had  actually  been  turned  out  of  their  municipal  offices  by 
James  for  refusing  to  support  his  policy.  It  is  not  strange, 
therefore,  that  the  attempt  to  inflict  on  all  these  men  without 
exception  a  degrading  punishment  should  have  raised  such  a 
storm  of  public  indignation  as  many  Whig  members  of  parlia- 
ment were  unwilling  to  face. 

As  the  decisive  conflict  .drew  near,  and  as  the  muster  of  the 
Tories  became  hourly  stronger  and  stronger,  the  uneasiness  of 
Sacheverell  and  of  his  confederates  increased.  They  found  that 
they  could  hardly  hope  for  a  complete  victory.  They  must 
propose  to  recommit  the  bill.  They  must  declare  themselves 
willing  to  consider  whether  any  distinction  could  be  made  be- 
tween the  chief  offenders  and  the  multitudes  who  had  been 
misled  by  evil  example.  But  as  the  spirit  of  one  party  fell  the 
spirit  of  the  other  rose.  The  Tories,  glowing  with  resentment 
which  was  but  too  just,  were  resolved  to  listen  to  no  terms  of 
compromise. 

The  tenth  of  January  came ;  and,  before  the  late  daybreak 
of  that  season,  the  House  was  crowded.  More  than  a  hundred 
and  sixt^  members  had  come  up  to  town  within  a  week.  From 
dawn  till  the  candles  had  burned  down  to  their  sockets  the 
ranks  kept  unbroken  order  ;  and  few  members  left  their  seats 
except  foi  a  minute  to  take  a  crust  of  bread  or  a  glass  of  claret. 
Messengers  were  m  waiting  to  carry  the  result  to  Kensington, 
where  William,  though  shaken  by  a  violent  cough,  sate  up  till 
midnight,  anxiouslv  expecting  the  news,  and  writing  to  Port- 
land, whom  he  had  sent  on  an  important  mission  to  the  Hague. 

The  only  remaining  account  of  the  debate  is  defective  and 
confused :  but  from  that  account  it  appears  that  the  excitement 


WILLIAM  AN©  MARY. 


40f 


was  great.  Sharp  things  were  said.  One  young  Whig  member 
used  language  so  hot  that  he  was  in  danger  of  being  called  to 
the  bar.  Some  reflections  were  thrown  on  the  Speaker  foi 
allowing  too  much  license  to  his  own  friends.  But  in  truth  it 
mattered  little  whether  he  called  transgressors  to  order  or  not. 
The  House  had  long  been  quite  unmanageable :  and  veteran 
members  bitterly  regretted  the  old  gravity  of  debate  and  the 
old  authority  of  the  chair.  That  Somers  disapproved  of  the 
violence  of  the  party  to  which  he  belonged  may  be  inferred, 
both  from  the  whole  course  of  his  public  life,  and  from  the 
very  significant  fact  that,  though  he  had  charge  of  the  Corpor- 
ation Bill,  he  did  not  move  the  penal  clauses,  but  left  that 
ungracious  office  to  men  more  impetuous  and  less  sagacious 
than  himself.  He  did  not  however  abandon  his  allies  in  this  em- 
ergency,  but  spoke  for  them,  and  tried  to  make  the  best  of  a  very 
bad  case.  The  House  divided  several  times.  On  the  first  division 
a  hundred  and  seventy-four  voted  with  Sacheverell,  a  hundred 
and  seventy-nine  against  him.  Still  the  battle  was  stubbornly 
kept  up ;  but  the  majority  increased  from  five  to  ten,  from  ten  to 
twelve,  and  from  twelve  to  eighteen.  Then  at  length,  after  a 
stormy  sitting  of  fourteen  hours,  the  Whigs  yielded.  It  was  near 
midnight  when,  to  the  unspeakable  joy  and  triumph  of  the 
Tories  the  clerk  tore  away  from  the  parchment  on  which  the  bill 
had  been  engrossed  the  odious  clauses  of  Sacheverell  and 
Howard.f 

Emboldened  by  this  great  victory,'  the  Tories  made  an  at« 
tempt  to  push  forward  the  Indemnity  Bill  which  had  lain  many 


*  **  The  authority  of  the  chair,  the  awe  and  reverence  to  order,  and  the  due  method  of 
debates  being  irrecoverably  lost  by  the  disorder  and  tumultuousness  of  the  House.'*— 
Sir  J.  Trevor  to  the  King,  Appendix  to  Dalrymple's  Memoirs,  Part  ii.  Book  4. 

t  Commons'  Journals,  Jan.  10,  1689-90.  I  have  done  my  best  to  frame  an  account  of 
this  contest  out  of  very  defective  materials,  Burnet's  narrative  contains  more  blunder/ 
than  lines.  He  evidently  trusted  to  his  memory,  and  was  completely  deceived  by  it. 
chief  authorities  are  the  Journals;  Grey's  Debates;  William's  Letters  to  Portland;  th( 
Despatches  of  Van  Citters  ;  a  Letter  concerning  the  Disabling  Clauses,  lately  offered  U 
the  House  of  Commons,  for  regulating  Corporations,  1690  ;  The  True  Friends  to  Corpora- 
tions vindicated,  in  an  answer  to  a  letter  concerning  the  Disabling  Clauses,  1690  ;  and 
Some  Queries  concerning  the  Election  of  Members  for  the  ensuing  Parliament,  1690.  To 
this  last  pamphlet  is  appended  a  list  of  those  who  voted  for  the  Sacheverell  clause.  See 
also  Clarendon's  Diary,  Jan.  10,  1689-90,  and  the  Third  Part  of  the  Caveat  against  the 
Whigs,  1712.  I  will  quote  the  last  sentences  of  William's  Letter  of  the  loth  oiE  January. 
The  news  of  the  first  division  only  had  reached  Kensington.  *'  II  est  k  present  onze  eures 
de  nuit,  et  h  dix  eures  la  Chambre  Basse  estoit  encore  ensemble.  Ainsi  je  ne  vous  puis 
escrire  par  cette  ordinaire  Tissue  de  I'alfaire,  Les  previos  questions  les  Tories  I'ont  em- 
port^  de  cinq  vois.  Ainsi  vous  pouvez  voir  que  la  chose  est  bien  disputee.  J'ay  si  grand 
somiel,  et  mon  toux  m'incomode  que  je  ne  vous  en  saurez  dire  d'avantage.  Jusques  k 
mourir  k  vous." 

On  the  same  night  Van  Citters  wrote  to  the  States  General.  The  debate,  he  said,  had 
been  very  sharp.  The  design  of  the  Whigs,  whom  he  calls  the  Presbyterians,  had  been 
nothing  less  than  to  exclude  their  opponents  from  all  ofl|ces,  and  tQ  obtain  for  themselves  tht 
occlusive  possession  ot  power. 


4o8 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


weeks  neglected  on  the  table.*    But  the  Whigs,  notwithstand- 

ing  their  recent  defeat,  where  still  the  majority  of  the  House ; 
and  many  members,  who  had  shrunk  from  the  unpopularity 
which  they  would  have  incurred  by  supporting  the  Sacheverell 
clause  and  the  Howard  clause,  were  perfectly  willing  to  assist 
in  retarding  the  general  pardon.  They  still  propounded 
their  favorite  dilemma.  How,  they  asked,  was  it  possible  to 
defend  this  project  of  amnesty  without  condemning  the  Rev- 
olution ?  Could  it  be  contended  that  crimes  which  had  been 
grave  enough  to  justify  rebellion  had  not  been  grave  enough  to 
deserve  punishment  ?  And,  if  those  crimes  were  of  such  mag- 
nitude that  they  could  justly  be  visited  on  the  Sovereign  whom 
the  Constitution  had  exempted  from  responsibility,  on  what 
principle  was  immunity  to  be  granted  to  his  advisers  and 
tools,  who  were  beyond  all  doubt  responsible  ?  One  facetious 
member  put  this  argument  in  a  singular  form.  He  contrived 
to  place  in  the  Speaker's  chair  a  paper  which,  when  examined, 
appeared  to  be  a  Bill  of  Indemnity  for  King  James,  with  a  sneer- 
ing preamble  about  the  mercy  which  had,  since  the  Revolution, 
been  extended  to  more  heinous  offenders,  and  about  the  In- 
dulgence due  to  a  King,  who,  in  oppressing  his  people,  had 
only  acted  after  the  fashion  of  all  Kings.f 

On  the  same  day  on  which  this  mock  Bill  of  Indemnity  dis- 
turbed the  gravity  of  the  Commons,  it  was  moved  that  the  House 
should  go  into  Committee  on  the  real  Bill.  The  Whigs  threw 
the  motion  out  by  a  hundred  and  ninety-three  votes  to  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty-six.  They  then  proceeded  to  resolve  that  a  bill 
of  pains  and  penalties  against  delinquents  should  be  forthwith 
brought  in,  and  engrafted  on  the  Bill  of  Indemnity.J 

A  few  hours  later  a  vote  passed  which  showed  more  clearly 
than  anything  that  had  yet  taken  place  how  little  chance  there 
was  that  the  public  mind  would  be  speedily  quieted  by  an  am- 
nesty. Few  persons  stood  higher  in  the  estimation  of  the  Tory 
party  than  Sir  Robert  Sawyer.  He  was  a  man  of  ample  for- 
tune and  aristocratical  connections,  of  orthodox  opinions  and 
regular  life,  an  able  and  experienced  lawyer,  a  well-read  scholar, 
and,  in  spite  of  a  little  pomposity,  a  good  speaker.  He  had 
been  Attorney-General  at  the  time  of  the  detection  of  the  Rye 
House  Plot  :  had  been  employed  for  the  Crown  in  the  prose- 
cutions which  followed ;  and  he  had  conducted  those  prosecu- 
tions with  an  eagerness  which  would,  in  our  time,  be  called 

*  Commons*  Journals,  January  ii,  1689-90. 

t  Luttreirs  Diary,  Jan.  16,  1690  ;  Van  Citters  to  the  State*  General  Jan.  11-31, 
I  Commons*  Journals,  Jan.  16,  1689-90. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


409 


cruelty  by  all  parties,  but  which,  In  his  own"  time,  and  to  his 

own  party,  seemed  to  be  merely  laudable  zeal.  His  friends  in- 
deed  asserted  that  he  was  conscientious  even  to  scrupulosity  in 
matters  of  life  and  death :  *  but  this  is  an  eulogy  which  persons 
who  bring  the  feelings  of  the  nineteenth  century  to  the  study 
of  the  State  Trials  of  the  seventeenth  century  will  have  some 
difficulty  in  understanding.  The  best  excuse  which  can  be 
made  for  this  part  of  his  life  is  that  the  stain  of  innocent  blood 
was  common  to  him  with  almost  all  the  eminent  public  men  of 
those  evil  days.  When  we  blame  him  for  prosecuting  Russell, 
we  must  not  forget  that  Russell  had  prosecuted  Stafford. 

Great  as  Sawyer's  offences  were,  he  had  made  great  atone- 
ment for  them.  He  had  stood  up  manfully  against  Popery  and 
despotism :  he  had,  in  the  very  presence  chamber,  positively 
refused  to  draw  warrants  in  contravention  of  Acts  of  Parlia- 
ment :  he  had  resigned  his  lucrative  office  rather  than  appear 
in  Westminster  Hall  as  the  champion  of  the  dispensing  power : 
he  had  been  the  leading  counsel  for  the  seven  Bishops ;  and 
he  had  on  the  day  of  their  trial,  done  his  duty  ably,  honestly, 
and  fearlessly.  He  was  therefore  a  favorite  with  High  Church^ 
men,  and  might  be  thought  to  have  fairly  earned  his  pardon 
from  the  Whigs.  But  the  Whigs  were  not  in  a  pardoning 
mood  ;  and  Sawyer  was  now  called  to  account  for  his  conduct 
in  the  case  of  Sir  Thomas  Armstrong. 

If  Armstrong  was  not  belied,  he  was  deep  in  the  worst 
secrets  of  the  Rye  House  Plot,  and  was  one  of  those  who  un- 
dertook to  slay  the  two  royal  brothers.  When  the  conspiracy 
was  discovered,  he  fled  to  the  Continent  and  was  outlawed. 
The  magistrates  of  Leyden  were  induced  by  a  bribe  to  deliver 
him  up.  He  was  hurried  on  board  of  an  English  ship,  carried 
to  London,  and  brought  before  the  King's  Bench.  Sawyer 
moved  the  Court  to  award  execution  on  the  outlawry.  Armstrong 
represented  that  a  year  had  not  yet  elapsed  since'  he  had  been 
outlawed,  and  that,  by  an  Act  passed  in  the  reign  of  Edward 
the  Sixth,  an  outlaw  who  yielded  himself  within  the  year  was 
entitled  to  plead  Not  Guilty,  and  to  put  himself  on  his  country. 
To  this  it  was  answered  that  Armstrong  had  not  yielded 
himself,  that  he  had  been  dragged  to  the  bar  a  prisoner, 
and  that  he  had  no  right  to  claim  a  privilege  which  was 
evidently  meant  to  be  given  only  to  persons  who  volun- 
tarily rendered  themselves  up  to  public  justice.  Jeffreys  and 
the  other  judges  unanimously  overruled  Armstrong's  objection,, 

♦  Roger  North's  Life  of  Guildford. 

Vol.  III.— 14 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


and  granted  the  award  of  execution.  Then  followed  one  of  the 
most  terrible  of  the  many  terrible  scenes  which,  in  those  times, 
disgraced  our  Courts.  The  daughter  of  the  unhappy  man  was 
at  his  side.  "  My  Lord,''  she  cried  out,  "  you  will  not  murder 
my  father.  This  is  murdering  a  man."  "  How  now.?  roared 
the  Chief  Justice.  "  Who  is  this  woman  ?  Take  her,  Marshal. 
Take  her  away."  She  was  forced  out,  crying  as  she  went, 
God  Almighty's  judgments  light  on  you  !  "  "  God  Almighty's 
judgments,"  said  Jeffreys,  "  w^Jl  light  on  traitors.  Thank  God, 
I  am  clamor  proof."  When  she  was  gone,  her  father  again  in- 
sisted on  what  he  conceived  to  be  his  right.  "  I  ask,"  he  said, 
"  only  the  benefit  of  the  law."  "  And,  by  the  grace  of  God,  you 
shall  have  it,"  said  the  judge.  "  Mr.  Sheriff,  see  that  execution 
be  done  on  Friday  next.  There  is  the  benefit  of  the  law  for  you." 
On  the  following  Friday,  Armstrong  was  hanged,  drawn  and 
quartered ;  and  his  head  was  placed  over  Westminster  Hall."* 

The  insolence  and  cruelty  of  Jeffreys  excite,  even  at  the 
distance  of  so  many  years,  an  indignation  which  makes  it  diffi- 
cult to  be  just  to  him.  Yet  a  perfectly  dispassionate  inquirer 
may  perhaps  think  it  by  no  means  clear  that  the  award  of  ex- 
ecution was  illegal.  There  was  no  precedent  ;  and  the  words 
of  the  Act  of  Edward  the  Sixth  may,  without  any  straining,  be 
construed  as  the  Court  construed  them.  Indeed,  had  the 
penalty  been  only  fine  and  imprisonment,  nobody  would  have 
seen  anything  reprehensible  in  the  proceeding.  But  to  send  a 
man  to  the  gallows  as  a  traitor,  without  confronting  him  with 
his  accusers,  without  hearing  his  defence,  solely  because  a 
timidity  v^^hich  s  perfectly  compatible  with  innocence  has  im- 
pelled him  to  hide  himself,  is  surely  a  violation,  if  not  of  any 
written  law,  yet  of  those  great  principles  to  which  all  laws 
ought  to  conform.  The  case  was  brought  before  the  House  of 
Commons.  The  orphan  daughter  of  Armstrong  came^  to  the 
bar  to  demand  vengeance  ;  and  a  warm  debate  followed.  Saw- 
yer was  fiercely  attacked,  and  strenuously  defended.  The 
Tories  declared  that  he  appeared  to  them  to  have  done  only 
what,  as  counsel  for  the  Crown,  he  was  bound  to  do,  and  to 
have  discharged  his  duty  to  God,  to  the  King,  and  to  the  pris- 
oner. If  the  award  was  legal,  nobody  was  to  blame  ;  and  if 
the  award  was  illegal,  the  blame  lay,  not  with  the  Attorney- 
General,  but  with  the  Judges.    There  would  be  an  end  of  all 


*  See  the  account  of  the  proceedmgs  in  the  collection  of  State  Trials.  It  has  been 
asserted  that  I  have  committed  an  error  here,  and  that  Armstrong's  head  was  placed  on 
Tei^le  Bar.  The  truth  is  that  one  of  his  quarters  was  placed  on  Temple  Bar,  His  he^ 
was  on  Westminster  HalL   See  Luitrell's  Diary,  Jiine  1684. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


411 


liberty  of  speech  at  the  bar,  if  an  advocate  was  to  be  punished 
for  making  a  strictly  regular  application  to  a  Court,  and  for 
arguing  that  certain  words  in  a  statute  were  to  be  understood 
in  a  certain  sense.  The  Whigs  called  Sawyer  murderer,  blood- 
hound, hangman.  If  the  liberty  of  speech  claimed  by  advo- 
cates meant  the  liberty  of  haranguing  men  to  death,  it  was 
high  time  that  the  nation  should  rise  up  and  exterminate  the 
whole  race  of  lawyers.  "Things  will  never  be  well  done,"  said 
one  orator,  "  till  some  of  that  profession  be  made  examples." 
"  No  crime  to  demand  execution  1  "  exclaimed  John  Hampden. 
"  We  shall  be  told  next  that  it  was  no  crime  in  the  Jews  to  cry 
out,  '  Crucify  him.'  "  A  wise  and  just  man  would  probably 
have  been  of  opinion  that  this  was  not  a  case  for  severity. 
Sawyer's  conduct  might  have  been,  to  a  certain  extent,  culpa- 
ble :  but,  if  an  Act  of  Indemnity  was  to  be  passed  at  all,  it  was 
t®  be  passed  for  the  benefit  of  persons  whose  conduct  had  been 
culpable.  The  question  was  not  whether  he  was  guiltless,  but 
whether  his  guilt  was  of  so  peculiarly  black  a  dye  that  he  ought, 
notwithstanding  all  his  sacrifices  and  services,  to  be  excluded 
by  name  from  the  mercy  which  was  to  be  granted  to  many 
thousands  of  offenders.  This  question  calm  and  impartial 
judges  would  probably  have  decided  in  his  favor.  It  was. 
however,  resolved  that  he  should  be  excepted  from  the  Indem- 
nity and  expelled  from  the  House."* 

On  the  morrow  the  Bill  of  Indemnity,  now  transformed  intc 
a  Bill  of  Pains  and  Penalties,  was  again  discussed.  The  Whigs 
consented  to  refer  it  to  a  Committee  of  the  whole  House,  but 
proposed  to  instruct  the  Committee  to  begin  its  labors  by  mak- 
ing out  a  list  of  the  offenders  who  were  to  be  proscribed.  The 
Tories  moved  the  previous  question.  The  House  divided :  and 
the  Whigs  carried  their  point  by  a  hundred  and  ninety  votes  to 
a  hundred  and  seventy-three.f 

The  King  watched  these  events  with  painful  anxiety.  He 
was  weary  of  his  crown.  He  had  tried  to  do  justice  to  both 
the  contending  parties  ;  but  justice  would  satisfy  neither.  The 
Tories  hated  him  for  protecting  the  Dissenters.  The  Whigs 
hated  him  for  protecting  the  Tories.    The  amnesty  seemed  to 


*  Commons'  Tournals,  Jan.  20,  1689-90  ;  Grey's  Debates,  Jan.  18,  and  20. 

t  Commons'  Journals,  Jan.  21,  1689-go.  On  the  same  day  William  wrote  thus  from 
Kensington  to  Portland  :  "  C*est  aujourd'hui  le  grand  jour  k  I'eguard  du  Bill  of  Indemnity. 
Selon  tout  ce  que  je  puis  aprendre,  il  y  aura  beaucoup  de  chaleur,  et  rien  determiner  ;  et 
de  la  mani^re  que  la  chose  est  entourre,  il  n'y  a  point  d'aparence  que  cette  affaire  viene  k 
aucune  conclusion.  Et  ainsi  il  se  pouroit  que  la  cession  fust  fort  courte  ;  n'ayant  plus  d'ar- 
gent  k  esp^rer  ;  et  les  esprits  s'aigfissent  I'un  contre  I'autre  de  plus  en  plus."  Three  days 
later  Van  Citters  informed  the  States  General  that  the  excitement  about  the  Bill  of  Indem- 
nity was  ttxtrome* 


412 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


be  more  remote  than  when,  ten  months  before,  he  first  recoin* 

mended  it  from  the  throne.  The  last  campaign  in  Ireland  had 
been  disastrous.  It  might  well  be  that  the  next  campaign 
would  be  more  disastrous  still.  The  malpractices,  which  had 
done  more  than  the  exhalations  of  the  marshes  of  Dundalk  to 
destroy  the  efficiency  of  the  English  troops  were  likely  to  be  as 
monstrous  as  ever.  Every  part  of  the  administration  was  thor- 
oughly disorganized ;  and  the  people  were  surprised  and  angry 
because  a  foreigner,  newly  come  among  them,  imperfectly  ao 
quainted  with  them,  and  constantly  thwarted  by  them,  had  not, 
in  a  year,  put  the  whole  machine  of  government  to  rights. 
Most  of  his  ministers,  instead  of  assisting  him,  were  trying  to 
get  up  addresses  and  impeachments  against  each  other.  Yet 
if  he  employed  his  own  countrymen,  on  whose  fidelity  and  at- 
tachment he  could  rely,  a  general  cry  of  rage  was  set  up  by 
all  the  English  factions.  The  knavery  of  the  English  Commis- 
sariat had  destroyed  an  army ;  yet  a  rumor  that  he  intended 
to  employ  an  able,  experienced,  and  trusty  Commissary  from 
Holland  had  excited  general  discontent.  The  King  felt  that 
he  could  not,  while  thus  situated,  render  any  service  to  that 
great  cause  to  which  his  whole  soul  was  devoted.  Already  the 
glory  which  he  had  won  by  conducting  to  a  successful  issue  the 
most  important  enterprise  of  that  age  was  becoming  dim. 
Even  his  friends  had  begun  to  doubt  whether  he  really  pos- 
sessed all  that  sagacity  and  energy  which  had  a  few  months  be- 
fore extorted  the  unwilling  admiration  of  his  enemies.  But  he 
would  endure  his  splendid  slavery  no  longer.  He  would  re- 
turn to  his  native  country.  He  would  content  himself  with 
being  the  first  citizen  of  a  commonwealth  to  which  the  name  of 
Orange  was  dear.  As  such,  he  might  still  be  foremost  among 
those  who  were  banded  together  in  defence  of  the  liberties  of 
Europe.  As  for  the  turbulent  and  ungrateful  islanders,  who 
detested  him  because  he  would  not  let  them  tear  each  other  in 
pieces,  Mary  must  try  what  she  could  do  with  them.  She  was 
born  on  their  soil.  She  spoke  their  language.  She  did  not 
dislike  some  parts  of  their  Liturgy,  which  they  fancied  to  be 
essential,  and  which  to  him  seemed  at  best  harmless.  If  she 
had  little  knowledge  of  politics  and  war,  she  had  what  might 
be  more  useful,  feminine  grace  and  tact,  a  sweet  temper,  a 
smile  and  a  kind  word  for  everybody.  She  might  be  able  to 
compose  the  disputes  which  distracted  the  State  and  the 
Church.  Holland,  under  his  government,  and  England  under 
hers,  might  act  cordially  together  against  the  common  enemy. 
He  secretly  ordered  preparations  to  be  made  for  his  voy« 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


age.  Having  done  this,  he  called  together  a  few  of  his  chief 
counsellors,  and  told  them  his  purpose.  A  squadron,  he  said, 
was  ready  to  convey  him  to  his  country.  He  had  done  with 
them.  He  hoped  that  the  Queen  would  be  more  successful. 
The  ministers  were  thunderstruck.  For  once  all  quarrels  were 
suspended.  The  Tory  Caermarthen  on  one  side,  the  Whig 
Shrewsbury  on  the  other,  expostulated  and  implored  with  a  pa- 
thetic vehemence  rare  in  the  conferences  of  statesmen.  Many 
tears  were  shed.  At  length  the  King  was  induced  to  give  up, 
at  least  for  the  present,  his  design  of  abdicating  the  govern- 
ment. But  he  announced  another  design  which  he  was  fully 
determined  not  to  give  up.  Since  he  was  still  to  remain  at  the 
head  of  the  English  administration,  he  would  go  himself  to 
Ireland.  He  would  try  whether  the  whole  royal  authority, 
strenuously  exerted  on  the  spot  where  the  fate  of  the  empire 
was  to  be  decided,  would  suffice  to  prevent  peculation  and  to 
maintain  discipline.* 

That  he  had  seriously  meditated  a  retreat  to  Holland  long 
continued  to  be  a  secret,  not  only  to  the  multitude,  but  even  to 
the  Queen. t  That  he  had  resolved  to  take  the  command  of 
his  army  in  Ireland  was  soon  rumored  all  over  London.  It 
was  known  that  his  camp  furniture  was  making^  and  that  Sir 
Christopher  Wren  was  busied  in  constructing  a  nouse  of  wood 
which  was  to  travel  about,  packed  in  two  wagons,  and  to  be  set 
up  wherever  His  Majesty  might  fix  his  quarters. t  The  Whigs 
raised  a  violent  outcry  against  the  whole  scheme.  Not  know- 
ing, or  affecting  not  to  know,  that  it  had  been  formed  by  Wil- 
liam, and  by  William  alone,  and  that  none  of  his  ministers  had 
dared  to  advise  him  to  encounter  the  Irish  swoKis  and  the 
Irish  atmosphere,  the  whole  party  confidently  affirmed  that  he 
had  been  misled  by  some  traitor  in  the  cabinet,  by  some  Tory 
who  hated  the  Revolution  and  all  that  had  sprung  from  the 
Revolution.  Would  any  true  friend  have  advised  His  Majesty, 
infirm  in  health  as  he  was,  to  expose  himself,  not  only  to  the 
dangers  of  war,  but  to  the  malignity  of  a  climate  which  had  re- 
cently been  fatal  to  thousands  of  men  much  stronger  than  him- 
self ?  In  private  the  King  sneered  bitterly  at  this  anxiety  for 
his  safety.  It  was  merely,  in  his  judgment,  the  anxiety  which 
a  hard  master  feels  lest  his  slaves  should  become  unfit  for  their 
drudgery.  The  Whigs,  he  wrote  to  Portland,  were  afraid  to 
lose  their  tool  before  they  had  done  their  work.    "  As  to  their 


*  Burnet,  ii.  39  ;  MS*  Memoir  written  by  the  first  Lord  Lonsdale  among  the  Ma«« 
kintosh  Papers. 

t  Btirnet,  ii.  40.  %  Luttrell's  Diary,  January  and  Febmary. 


414 


HISTORY  OP  ENGLAND* 


friendship)"  he  added,  "you  know  what  it  is  worth."    His  res* 

olution^  he  told  his  friend,  was  unalterably  fixed.  Everything 
was  at  stake ;  and  go  he  must  even  though  the  Parliament 
should  present  an  address  imploring  him  to  stay."^ 

He  soon  learned  that  such  an  address  would  be  immediately 
moved  in  both  Houses  and  supported  by  the  whole  strength  of 
the  Whig  party.  This  intelligence  satisfied  him  that  it  was 
time  to  take  a  decisive  step.  He  would  not  discard  the  Whigs : 
but  he  would  give  them  a  lesson  of  which  they  stood  much  in 
need.  He  would  break  the  chain  in  which  they  imagined  that 
they  had  him  fast.  He  would  not  let  them  have  the  exclusive 
possession  of  power.  He  would  not  let  them  persecute  the 
vanquished  party.  In  their  despite,  he  would  grant  an  amnesty 
to  his  people.  In  their  despite,  he  would  take  the  command  of 
his  army  in  Ireland.  He  arranged  his  plan  with  characteristic 
prudence,  firmness,  and  secrecy.  A  single  Englishman  it  was 
necessary  to  trust:  for  William  was  not  sufficiently  master  of 
our  language  to  address  the  Houses  from  the  throne  in  his  own 
words ;  and  on  very  important  occasions,  his  practice  was  to 
write  his  speech  in  French,  and  to  employ  a  translator.  It  is 
certain  that  to  one  person,  and  to  one  only,  the  King  confided 
the  momentous  resolution  which  he  had  taken  ;  and  it  can 
hardly  be  doubted  that  this  person  was  Caermarthen. 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  January,  Black  Rod  knocked  at 
the  door  of  the  Commons.  The  Speaker  and  the  members  re- 
paired to  the  House  of  Lords.  The  King  was  on  the  throne. 
He  gave  his  assent  to  the  Supply  Bill,  thanked  the  Houses  for 
it,  announced  his  intention  of  going  to  Ireland,  and  prorogued 
the  Parliament.  None  could  doubt  that  a  dissolution  would 
speedily  follow.  As  the  concluding  words,  "  I  have  thought  it 
convenient  now  to  put  an  end  to  this  session,"  were  uttered, 
the  Tories,  both  above  and  below  the  bar,  broke  forth  into  a 
shout  of  joy.  The  King  meanwhile  surveyed  his  audience  from 
the  throne  with  that  bright  eagle  eye  which  nothing  escaped. 
He  might  be  pardoned  if  he  felt  some  little  vindictive  pleasure 


*  William  to  Portland,  Jan.  10-20,  1690.  "  Les  WIges  ont  peur  de  me  perdre  trop 
tost,  avant  qu'ils  n'ayent  fait  avec  moy  ce  qu'ils  veulent  :  car,  pour  leur  amiti6,  vous  savez 
ce  qu'il  y  z  k  compter  l^idessus  en  ce  pays  icy.*'  1         •  j 

Jan.  14-24.  "  Me  voili  le  plus  embarass^  du  monde,  ne,  sachant  _  quel  parti  prendre, 
estant  toujours  persuade  q,ue,  sans  que  j'allle  en  Irlande,  I'on  n'y  faira  rien  qui  vaille.  Four 
avoir  du  conseil  en  cette  affaire,  je  n'en  ay  point  kattendre,  personne  n  ausant  dire  ses  sen- 
timens,  Et  Von  commence  di]k  k  dire  ouvertement  que  ce  sont  des  traitres  qui  m  ont  coii- 
BtilU  de  prendre  cette  resolution."  ,     t»   v        4-  tt 

Jan.  21-31.  "  Je  n'ay  encore  rien  dit,"— he  means  to  the  Parliament,-;  de  mon 
voyaee  pour  I'lrlande.  Et  je  ne  suis  point  encore  d^termin^  si  j'en  parlerez  :  mais  Je  crams 
que  nonobstant  i'aurez  une  adresse  pour  n'y  point  aller  ;  ce  qui  m'embarassera  beaucimp, 
puis  que  c'est  une  n^cessit^  absolue  que  j*y  aille.** 


WILLIAM  AND  UAXT. 


in  annoying  those  who  had  cruelly  annoyed  him.  "  I  saw,"  he 
wrote  to  Portland  the  next  day,  "  faces  an  ell  long.  I  saw  some 
of  those  men  change  color  twenty  times  while  I  was  speaking."* 

A  few  hours  after  the  prorogation,  a  hundred  and  fifty  Tory 
members  of  Parliament  had  a  parting  dinner  together  at  the 
Apollo  Tavern  in  Fleet  Street,  before  they  set  out  for  their 
counties.  They  were  in  better  temper  with  William  than  they 
had  been  since  his  father-in-law  had  been  turned  out  of  White- 
hall. They  had  scarcely  recovered  from  the  joyful  surprise  with 
which  they  had  heard  it  announced  from  the  throne  that  the 
session  was  at  an  end.  The  recollection  of  their  danger  and  the 
sense  of  their  deliverance  were  still  fresh.  They  talked  of  re- 
pairing to  Court  in  a  body  to  testify  their  gratitude  ;  but  they 
were  induced  to  forego  their  intention  ;  and  not  without  cause  ; 
for  a  great  crowd  of  squires,  after  a  revel,  at  which  doubtless 
neither  October  nor  claret  had  been  spared,  might  have  caused 
some  inconvenience  in  the  presence  chamber.  Sir  John  Low- 
ther,  who  in  wealth  and  influence  was  inferior  to  no  country 
gentleman  of  that  age,  was  deputed  to  carry  the  thanks  of  the 
assembly  to  the  palace.  He  spoke,  he  told  the  King,  the  sense 
of  a  great  body  of  honest  gentlemen.  They  begged  His  Majesty 
to  be  assured  that  they  would  in  their  counties  do  their  best  to 
serve  him ;  and  they  cordially  wished  him  a  safe  voyage  to  Ire- 
land, a  complete  victory,  a  speedy  return,  and  a  long  and  happy 
reign.  During  the  following  week,  many,  who  had  never  shown 
their  faces  in  the  circle  at  Saint  James's  since  the  Revolution, 
went  to  kiss  the  King's  hand.  So  warmly  indeed  did  those  who 
had  hitherto  been  regarded  as  half  Jacobites  express  their  ap- 
probation of  the  policy  of  the  government,  that  the  thorough-go- 
ing Jacobites  were  much  disgusted,  and  complained  bitterly  of 
the  strange  blindness  which  seemed  to  have  come  on  the  sons 
of  the  Church  of  England.f 

All  the  acts  of  William,  at  this  time,  indicated  his  deter- 
mination to  restrain,  steadily  though  gently,  the  violence  of  the 
Whigs,  and  to  conciliate,  if  possible,  the  good  will  of  the 


*  William  to  Portland,  — ~  1690  ;  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  same  date  ; 
b  eb.  7, 

Evelyn's  Diary ;  Lords*  Journals,  Jan.  27.  I  will  quote  William's  own  words.  '*  Voos 
rairez  mon  ^  harangue  imprimde  ;  amsi  je  ne  vous  en  direz  rien,  Et  pour  les  raisons  aui 
m'y  ont  oblig^,  je  les  reserverez  k  vous  les  dire  jusques  k  vostre'  retour.  II  semble  cjue  ie« 
Toris  en  sent  Dien  aise,  mais  point  les  Wiggs.  lis  estoient  tous  fort  surpris  quand  je  leur 
parlois,  n'ayant  communique  mon  dessin  qu'^  une  seule  personne.  Je  vis  des  visages  lonjg 
comme  un  aune,  chang^  de  couleur  vingt  fois  pendant  que  je  parlois.  Tous  ces  particularity 
jusques  k  vostre  heureux  retour." 

t  Evelyn's  Diary  ;  Clarendon's  Diary,  Feb.  9,  1690  ;  Van  CHterft  to  the  Stattt*  Ceaftril 

J,^^  ;  Lonsdale  MS.  quoted  by  Dalrymplt, 


4i6 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAim. 


Tories.    Several  persons  whom  the  Commons  had  thrown  Into 

prison  for  treason  were  set  at  liberty  on  bail.*  The  prelates 
who  held  that  their  allegiance  was  still  due  to  James  were 
treated  with  a  tenderness  rare  in  the  history  of  revolutions. 
Within  a  week  after  the  prorogation,  the  first  of  February 
came,  the  day  on  which  those  ecclesiastics  who  refused  to  take 
the  oaths  were  to  be  finally  deprived.  Several  of  the  sus- 
pended clergy,  after  holding  out  till  the  last  moment,  swore 
just  in  time  to  save  themselves  from  beggary.  But  the  Pri- 
mate and  five  of  his  suffragans  were  still  inflexible.  They  con- 
sequently forfeited  their  bishoprics  :  but  Bancroft  was  informed 
that  the  King  had  not  yet  relinquished  the  hope  of  being  able 
to  make  some  arrangement  which  might  avert  the  necessity  of 
appointing  successors,  and  that  the  nonjuring  prelates  might 
continue  for  the  present  to  reside  in  their  palaces.  Their  re- 
ceivers were  appointed  receivers  for  the  Crown,  and  continued 
to  collect  the  revenues  of  the  vacant  sees.f  Similar  indul- 
gence was  shown  to  some  divines  of  lower  rank.  Sherlock,  in 
particular,  continued,  after  his  deprivation,  to  live  unmolested 
in  his  official  mansion  close  to  the  Temple  Church. 

And  now  appeared  a  proclamation  dissolving  the  Parlia- 
ment. The  writs  for  a  general  election  went  out ;  and  soon 
every  part  of  the  kingdom  was  in  a  ferment.  Van  Citters,  who 
had  resided  in  England  during  many  eventful  years,  declared 
that  he  had  never  seen  London  more  violently  agitated.  |  The 
excitement  was  kept  up  by  compositions  of  all  sorts,  from  ser- 
mons with  sixteen  heads  down  to  jinghng  street  ballads.  Lists 
of  divisions  were,  for  the  first  time  in  our  history,  printed  and 
dispersed  for  the  information  of  constituent  bodies.  Two  of 
these  lists  may  still  be  seen  in  old  libraries.  One  of  the  two, 
circulated  by  the  Whigs,  contained  the  names  of  those  Tories 
who  had  voted  against  declaring  the  throne  vacant.  The 
other,  circulated  by  the  Tories,  contained  the  names  of  those 
Whigs  who  had  supported  the  Sacheverell  clause. 

It  soon  became  clear  that  public  feeling  had  undergone  a 
great  change  during  the  year  which  had  elapsed  since  the 
Convention  had  met :  and  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that  this 
change  was,  at  least  in  part,  the  natural  consequence  and  the 
just  punishment  of  the  intemperate  and  vindictive  conduct  of 
the  Whigs,  Of  the  City  of  London  they  thought  themselves 
sure    The  Livery  had  in  the  preceding  year  returned  four 


*  Karcissus  Luttrell's  Diary. 

^  Clarendon's  Diary,  Feb.  n,  1690, 

I  Yin  Otttri  td  the  SUtea  General,  Febrwuy         ii9»  )  Kvf  lyn't 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


41) 


realous  Whigs  without  a  contest.  But  all  the  four  had  voted 
for  the  Sacheverell  clause ;  and  by  that  clause  many  of  the 
merchant  princes  of  Lombard  Street  and  Cornhill,  men  power- 
ful in  the  twelve  great  companies,  men  whom  the  goldsmiths 
followed  humbly,  hat  in  hand,  up  and  down  the  arcades  of  the 
Royal  Exchange,  would  have  been  turned  with  all  indignity 
out  of  the  Court  of  Aldermen  and  out  of  the  Common  Council. 
The  struggle  was  for  life  or  death.  No  exertions,  no  artifices, 
were  spared.  William  wrote  to  Portland  that  the  Whigs  of 
the  City,  in  their  despair,  stuck  at  nothing,  and  that,  as  they 
went  on,  they  would  soon  stand  as  much  in  need  of  an  Act  of 
Indemnity  as  the  Tories  Four  Tories,  however,  were  returned, 
and  that  by  so  decisive  a  majority  that  the  Tory  who  stood 
lowest  polled  four  hundred  votes  more  than  the  Whig  w^ho 
stood  highest.*  The  Sheriffs,  desiring  to  defer  as  long  as 
possible  the  triumph  of  their  enemies,  granted  a  scrutiny.  But, 
though  the  majority  was  diminished,  the  result  was  not  affect- 
ed.f  At  Westminster,  two  opponents  of  the  Sacheverell  clause 
were  elected  without  a  contest. $  But  nothing  indicated  more 
strongly  the  disgust  excited  by  the  proceedings  of  the  late 
House  of  Commons  than  what  passed  in  the  University  of 
Cambridge.  Newton  retired  to  his  quiet  observatory  over  the 
gate  of  Trinity  College.  Two  Tories  were  returned  by  an 
overwhelming  majority.  At  the  head  of  the  poll  was  Sawyer, 
who  had,  but  a  few  days  before,  been  excepted  from  the  In- 
demnity Bill  and  expelled  from  the  House  of  Commons.  The 
records  of  the  University  contain  curious  proofs  that  the  unwise 
severity  with  which  he  had  been  treated  had  raised  an  enthu- 
siastic feeling  in  his  favor.  Newton  voted  for  Sawyer ;  and  this 
remarkable  fact  justifies  us  in  believing  that  the  great  philoso- 
pher, in  whose  genius  and  virtue  the  Whig  party  justly  glories, 
had  seen  the  headstrong  and  revengeful  conduct  of  that  party 
with  concern  and  disapprobation. § 

It  was  soon  plain  that  the  Tories  would  have  a  majority 
in  the  new  House  of  Commons.!  All  the  leading  Whigs,  how- 
ever, obtained  seats,  with  one  exception.    John  Hampden  was 


*  William  to  Portland,  ^.^       '  1690  ;  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  March  4-14 ; 

March  10,  »  t  t  » 

Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary, 

t  Van  Citters,  March  11-21,  1690  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary. 

t  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  March  11-21,  1690. 

§  The  votes  were  for  Sawyer  165,  for  Finch  141,  for  Bennet,  whom  I  suppose  to  hav<» 
been  a  Whig,  87.  At  the  University  every  voter  delivers  hi*  vote  in  writing.  One  of  the 
votes  given  on  that  occasion  is  in  the  following  words,  •*  Henricus  Jenkesy  ex  amore  justitis^ 
^Igit  vinim  consultissimum  Robertum  Sawyer.*' 

I  Van  Citttrs  to  the  States  General,  March  1690, 


HISTORY  or  BMOLAm 


excluded,  and  was  regretted  only  by  the  most  intolerant  and 

unreasonable  members  of  his  party.'* 

The  King  meanwhile  was  making,  in  almost  every  depart- 
ment of  the  executive  government,  a  change  corresponding  to 
the  change  which  the  general  election  was  making  in  the  com- 
position of  the  legislature.  Still,  however,  he  did  not  think  of 
forming  what  is  now  called  a  ministry.  He  still  reserved  to 
himself  more  especially  the  direction  of  foreign  affairs,  and  he 
superintended  with  minute  attention  all  the  preparations  for  the 
approaching  campaign  in  Ireland.  In  his  confidential  letters 
he  complained  that  he  had  to  perform  with  little  or  no  assistance, 
the  task  of  organizing  the  disorganized  military  establishments 
of  the  kingdom.  The  work,  he  said,  was  heavy  ;  but  it  must 
be  done  ;  for  everything  depended  on  it.f  In  general,  the 
government  was  still  a  government  by  independent  departments ; 
and  in  almost  every  department  Whigs  and  Tories  were  still 
mingled,  though  not  exactly  in  the  old  proportions.  The  Whig 
element  had  decidedly  predominated  in  1689.  The  Tory  ele- 
ment predominated,  though  not  very  decidedly,  in  1690. 

Halifax  had  laid  down  the  Privy  Seal.  It  was  offered  to 
Chesterfield,  a  Tory  who  had  voted  in  the  Convention  for  a  Re- 
gency. But  Chesterfield  refused  to  quit  his  country  house  and 
gardens  in  Derbyshire  for  the  Court  and  Council  Chamber; 
and  the  Privy  Seal  was  put  into  Commission.f  Caermarthen 
was  now  the  chief  adviser  of  the  crown  on  all  matters  relating 
to  the  internal  administration  and  to  the  management  of  the 
two  Houses  of  Parliament.  The  white  staff,  and  the  immense 
power  which  accompanied  the  white  staff,  William  was  still  de- 
termined never  to  entrust  to  any  subject.    Caermarthen  there- 


t  It  is  amusing  to  see  how  absurdly  foreign  pamphleteers,  ignorant  of  the  real  state  of 
tkings  in  England,  exaggerated  the  importance  of  John  Hampden,  whose  name  they  could 
hot  spell.  In  a  French  Dialogue  between  William  and  the  Ghost  of  Monmouth,  William 
iays,  *'  Entre  ces  membres  de  la  Chambre  Basse  ^toit  un  certain  homme  hardy,  opiniatre, 
tt  zi\6  k  Vexchs  pour  sa  cr^ance  ;  on  I'appelle  Embden,  <^galement  dangereux  par  son  espnt 

>t  par  son  credit  Je  ne  trouvay  point  de  chemin  plus  court  pour  me  delivrer  de  cette 

traverse  que  de  casser  le  parlement,  en  convoquer  un  autre,  et  empescher  que  cet  homme, 
6ui  me  faisoit  tant  d'ombrages,  ne  fust  nomme  pour  un  des  deputez  au  nouvel  parlement. 
*•  Ainsi,"  says  the  Ghost,  *'  cette  cassation  de  parlement  qui  a  fait  tant  de  bruit,  e t  a  pro- 
iuit  tant  de  raisonnemens  et  de  speculations,  n'estoit  que  pour  exclure  Embden.  Mais  s  il 
*stoit  si  adroit  et  si  z6\6,  comment  as-tu  pu  trouver  le  moyen  de  la  faire  exclure  du  nombre 
jes  deputez?"  To  this  sensible  question  the  King  replies,  not  vary  explicitly,  lima 
Ullu  faire  dVtranges  msinceuvres  pour  en  venir  k  bout.'*— L* Ombre  de  Monmouth,  1690.  ^ 

t  "  A  present  ::out  dependra  d'un  bon  succds  en     Irlande ;  et  k  quoy  il  faut  que  je 
•Vaplique  entier  ment  pour  regler  le  mieux  que  je  puis  toutte  chose.    .    .    .    •   ,*  .  J® 
vous  asseure  que  je  n'ay  pas  peu  8ur  les  bras,  estant  aussi  malassistd  que  je  suis.  — Williain 
^         ,     ,  Jan.  28,  , 
t«>  Portland,   ' 

*  Van  CitterSj  Feb.  14-24,  1689-90^  Memoir  of  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  by  himseM ; 
I'  alifax  to  Chesterfield,  Feb.  6  ;  Chesterfield  to  Halifax,  Feb.  8.  The  editor  of  the  lettera 
¥  the  second  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  notalloiring  for  the  change  of  style,  bas  nusplaced  tm 
6*^espoii4ence  by  a  ye«r. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


419 


fore  continued  to  be  Lord  President ;  but  he  took  possession 
of  a  suite  of  apartments  in  Saint  James's  Palace  which  was  con- 
sidered as  peculiarly  belonging  to  the  Prime  Minister."*  He 
had,  during  the  preceding  year,  pleaded  ill  health  as  an  excuse 
for  seldom  appearing  at  the  Council  Board ;  and  the  plea  was 
not  without  foundation  :  his  digestive  organs  had  some  morbid 
peculiarities  which  puzzled  the  whole  College  of  Physicians : 
his  complexion  was  livid  :  his  frame  was  meagre  :  and  his  face, 
handsome  and  intellectual  as  it  was,  had  a  haggard  look  which 
indicated  the  restlessness  of  pain  as  well  as  the  restlessness  of 
ambition.f  As  soon,  however,  as  he  was  once  more  minister, 
he  applied  himself  strenuously  to  business,  and  toiled  every  day, 
and  all  day  long^  with  an  energy  which  amazed  everybody  who 
saw  his  ghastly  countenance  and  tottering  gait. 

Though  he  could  not  obtain  for  himself  the  office  of  Lord 
Treasurer,  his  influence  at  thCcTreasury  was  great,  Monmouth, 
the  First  Commissioner,  and  Delamere,  the  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer,  two  of  the  most  violent  Whigs  in  England,  quitted 
their  seats.  On  this,  as  on  many  other  occasions,  it  ap- 
peared that  they  had  nothing  but  their  Whiggism  in  common. 
The  volatile  Monmouth,  sensible  that  he  had  none  of  the  qual- 
ities of  a  financier,  seems  to  have  taken  no  personal  offence  at 
being  removed  from  a  place  which  he  never  ought  to  have  oc- 
cupied. He  thankfully  accepted  a  pension,  which  his  profuse 
habits  made  necessary  to  him,  and  still  continued  to  attend 
Councils,  to  frequent  the  Court,  and  to  discharge  the  duties  of 
a  Lord  of  the  Bedchamber.J  He  also  tried  to  make  himself 
useful  in  military  business,  which  he  understood,  if  not  well,  yet 
better  than  most  of  his  brother  nobles  :  and  he  professed,  dur- 
ing a  few  months,  a  great  regard  for  Caermarthen.  Delamere 
was  in  a  very  different  mood.  It  was  in  vain  that  his  services 
were  overpaid  with  honors  and  riches.    He  was  created  Earl  of 

*  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  Feb.  1 1-2 1,  i6go. 

t  A  strange  peculiarity  of  his  constitution  is  mentioned  in  an  account  of  him  which  was 
V)ublished  a  few  months  after  his  death.  See  the  volume  entitled  "  Lives  and  Characters  of 
the  most  Illustrious  Persons,  British  and  Foreign,  who  died  in  the  year  1712."  So  early  as 
^he  days  of  Charles  the  Second,  the  leanness  and  ghastliness  of  Caermarthen  were  among 
the  favorite  topics  of  Whig  satirists.  In  a  ballad  entitled  the  Chequer  Inn  are  these 
line*. 

"  He  IS  as  stiff  as  any  stake, 
And  leaner,  Dick,  than  any  rake : 

Envy  is  not  so  pale  ; 
And  though,  by  selling  of  us  all, 
He  has  wrought  himself  in  to  Whitehall, 

He  looks  like  bird  of  gaol." 

t  Monmouth^s  pension  and  the  good  understanding  between  him  and  the  Court  are  men* 
tionod  in  a  letter  from  a  Jacobite  agent  in  England,  v^ich  is  iu  the  Archives  of  the  French 
War  Office.   The  date  is  April  &-i8|  1690. 


420 


HISTORY  OF  £N9t«AND. 


Warrington.    He  obtained  a  grant  of  all  the  lands  that  couM 

be  discovered  belonging  to  Jesuits  in  five  or  six  counties.  A 
demand  made  by  him  on  account  of  expenses  incurred  at  the 
time  of  the  Revolution  was  allowed ;  and  he  carried  with  him 
into  retirement  as  the  reward  of  his  patriotic  exertions  a  large 
sum  which  the  State  could  ill  spare.  But  his  anger  was  not  to 
be  so  appeased  ;  and  to  the  end  of  his  life  he  continued  to  com- 
plain bitterly  of  the  ingratitude  with  which  he  and  his  party  had 
been  treated.* 

Sir  John  Lowther  became  first  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  and 
was  the  person  on  whom  Caermarthen  chiefly  relied  for  the 
conduct  of  the  ostensible  business  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
Lowther  was  a  man  of  ancient  descent,  ample  estate,  and  great 
parliamentary  interest.  Though  not  an  old  man,  he  was  an 
old  senator :  for  he  had,  before  he  was  of  age,  succeeded  his 
father  as  knight  of  the  shire  for  Westmoreland.  In  truth  the 
representation  of  Westmoreland  was  almost  as  much  one  of  the 
hereditaments  of  the  Lowther  family  as  Lowther  Hall.  Sir 
John's  abilities  were  respectable :  his  manners,  though  sarcas- 
tically noticed  in  contemporary  lampoons  as  too  formal,  were 
eminently  courteous  :  his  personal  courage  he  was  but  too 
ready  to  prove :  his  morals  were  irreproachable :  his  time  was 
divided  between  respectable  labors  and  respectable  pleasures : 
his  chief  business  was  to  attend  the  House  of  Commons  and 
to  preside  on  the  Bench  of  Justice  :  his  favorite  amusements 
were  reading  and  gardening.  In  opinions  he  was  a  very  mod- 
erate Tory.  He  was  attached  to  hereditary  monarchy  and  to 
the  Established  Church :  but  he  had  concurred  in  the  Revolu* 
tion  ;  he  had  no  misgivings  touching  the  title  of  William  and 
Mary ;  he  had  sworn  allegiance  to  them  without  any  mental 
reservation ;  and  he  appears  to  have  strictly  kept  his  oath. 
Between  him  and  Caermarthen  there  was  a  close  connection. 
They  had  acted  together  cordially  in  the  Northern  insurrec- 
tion ;  and  they  agreed  in  their  political  views,  as  nearly  as  a 
very  cunning  statesman  and  a  very  honest  country  gentleman 


♦  The  grants  of  land  obtained  by  Delamere  are  mentioned  by  Narcissus  Luttrell.  It 
appears  from  the  Treasury  Letter  Book  of  1690  that  Delamere  continued  to  dun  the  gov- 
ernment for  money  after  his  retirement.  As  to  his  general  character  it  would  not  be  saf« 
to  trust  the  representations  of  his  enemies.  But  his  own  writings,  and  the  admissions  ol 
the  divine  who  preached  his  funeral  sermon,  show  that  his  temper  was  not  the  most  gentle. 
Clarendon  remarks  (Dec.  17,  1688,)  that  a  little  thing  sufficed  to  put  Lord  Delamere  into  9 
passion.    In  the  poem  entitled  the  King  of  Hearts,  Delamere  is  described  as— 

•*  A  restless  malecontent  even  when  preferred.** 

His  countenance  furnished  a  subject  for  satire ; 

His  boding  looks  a  mind  distracted  show ; 
And  envy  sits  sngraved  upon  his  brow." 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


Could  be  expected  to  agree.*  By  Caermarthen's  influence 
Lowther  was  now  raised  to  one  of  the  most  important  places  in 
the  kingdom.  Unfortunately  it  was  a  place  requiring  qualities 
very  different  from  those  which  suffice  to  make  a  valuable 
country  member  and  chairman  of  quarter  sessions.  The  tongue 
of  the  new  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  was  not  sufficiently  ready, 
nor  was  his  temper  sufficiently  callous  for  his  post.  He  had 
neither  adroitness  to  parry,  nor  fortitude  to  endure,  the  gibes 
and  reproaches  to  which,  in  his  new  character  of  courtier  and 
placeman,  he  was  exposed.  There  was  also  something  to  be 
done  which  he  was  too  scrupulous  to  do ;  something  which  had 
never  been  done  by  Wolsey  or  Burleigh  ;  something  which  has 
never  been  done  by  any  English  statesman  of  our  generation  ; 
but  which,  from  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second  to  the  time  of 
George  the  Third,  was  one  of  the  most  importan*-  parts  of  the 
business  of  a  minister. 

The  history  of  the  rise,  progress,  and  decline  of  parliament- 
ary corruption  in  England  still  remains  to  be  written.  No  sub- 
ject has  called  forth  a  greater  quantity  of  eloquent  vituperation 
and  stinging  sarcasm.  Three  generations  of  serious  and  of 
sportive  writers  wept  and  laughed  over  the  venality  of  the  sen- 
ate. That  venality  was  denounced  on  the  hustings,  anathe- 
matized from  the  pulpit,  and  burlesqued  on  the  stage ;  was 
attacked  by  Pope  in  brilliant  verse,  and  by  Bolingbroke  in 
stately  prose,  by  Swift  with  savage  hatred,  and  by  Gay  with 
festive  malice,'  The  voices  of  Tories  and  Whigs,  of  Johnson 
and  Akenside,  of  Smollett  and  Fielding,  contributed  to  swell 
the  cry.  But  none  of  those  who  railed  or  of  those  who  jested 
took  the  trouble  to  verify  the  phenomena,  or  to  trace  them  to 
the  real  causes. 

Sometimes  the  evil  was  imputed  to  the  depravity  of  a  par- 
ticular minister :  but,  when  he  had  been  driven  from  power, 
and  when  those  who  had  most  loudly  accused  him  governed  in 
his  stead,  it  was  found  that  the  change  of  men  had  produced  no 
change  of  system.  Sometimes  the  evil  was  imputed  to  the  de- 
generacy of  the  national  character.  Luxury  and  cupidity,  it 
was  said,  had  produced  in  our  country  the  same  effect  which 
they  had  produced  of  old  in  the  Roman  republic.  The 
modern  Englishman  was  to  the  Englishman  of  the  sixteenth 

*  My  notion  of  Lowther's  character  has  been  chiefly  formed  from  two  papers  written  by 
himself,  one  of  which  has  been  printed,  though  I  believe  not  published.  A  copy  of  the 
other  is  among  the  Mackintosh  MSS.  Something  I  have  taken  from  contemporary  satires. 
That  Lowther  was  too  ready  to  expose  his  life  in  private  encounters  is  sufficiently  proved 
by  the  fact  that,  *nen  he  was  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  he  accepted  a  challenge  from  a 
custom  house  officer  whom  he  had  dismissed.  There  was  a  duel ;  and  Lowther  was  se- 
verely woonded,   Thi»  erent  is  mentioned  in  Luttrell's  Diary^  April  1690^ 


422 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


century  what  Verres  and  Curio  were  to  Dentatus  and  Fabrlcius. 
Those  who  held  this  language  were  as  ignorant  and  shallow  as 
people  generally  are  who  extol  the  past  at  the  expense  of  the 
present.  A  man  of  sense  would  have  perceived  diat,  if  the 
English  of  the  time  of  George  the  Second  had  really  been  more 
sordid  and  dishonest  than  their  forefathers,  the  deterioration 
would  not  have  shown  itself  in  one  place  alone.  The  progress 
of  judicial  venality  and  of  official  venality  would  have  kept  pace 
with  the  progress  of  parliamentary  venality.  But  nothing  is 
more  certain  than  that,  while  the  legislature  was  becoming 
more  and  more  venal,  the  courts  of  law  and  the  public  offices 
were  becoming  purer  and  purer.  The  representatives  of  the 
people  were  undoubtedly  more  mercenary  in  the  days  of  Hard* 
wicke  and  Pelham  than  in  the  days  of  the  Tudors.  But  the 
Chancellors  of  the  Tudors  took  plate,  jewels,  and  purses  of 
broad  pieces,  from  suitors  without  scruple  or  shame  ;  and  Hard* 
wicke  would  have  committed  for  contempt  any  suitor  who  had 
dared  to  bring  him  a  present.  The  Treasurers  of  the  Tudors 
raised  princely  fortunes  by  the  sale  of  places,  titles,  and  par- 
dons ;  and  Pelham  would  have  ordered  his  servants  to  turn  out 
of  his  house  any  man  who  had  offered  him  money  for  a  peer- 
age or  a  commissionership  of  customs.  It  is  evident,  there* 
fore,  that  the  prevalence  of  corruption  in  the  parliament  can* 
not  be  ascribed  to  a  general  depravation  of  morals.  The  taint 
was  local :  we  must  look  for  some  local  cause ;  and  such  a 
cause  will  without  difficulty  be  found. 

Under  our  ancient  sovereigns  the  House  of  Commons  rarely 
interfered  with  the  executive  administration.  The  Speaker  wa« 
charged  not  to  let  the  members  meddle  with  matters  of  State. 
If  any  gentleman  was  very  troublesome,  he  was  cited  before 
the  Privy  Council,  interrogated,  reprimanded,  and  sent  to 
meditate  on  his  undutiful  conduct  in  the  Tower.  The  Com- 
mons did  their  best  to  protect  themselves  by  keeping  their 
deliberations  secret,  by  excluding  strangers,  by  making  it  3 
crime  to  repeat  out  of  doors  what  had  passed  within  doors. 
But  these  precautions  were  of  small  avail.  In  so  large  an 
assembly  there  were  always  talebearers,  ready  to  carry  the  evil 
report  of  their  brethren  to  the  palace.  To  oppose  the  Court 
was  therefore  a  service  of  serious  danger.  In  those  days,  of 
course,  there  was  little  or  no  buying  of  votes.  For  an  honest 
man  was  not  to  be  bought,  and  it  was  much  cheaper  to  intim^ 
idate  or  to  coerce  a  knave  than  to  buy  him. 

For  a  very  different  reason  there  has  been  no  direct  buying 
of  votes  within  the  memory  of  the  present  generation.  The 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


House  of  Commons  is  now  supreme  in  the  State,  but  is  account* 
able  to  the  nation.  Even  those  members  who  are  not  chosen 
by  large  constituent  bodies  are  kept  in  awe  by  public  opinion. 
Everything  is  printed ;  everything  is  discussed  ;  every  material 
word  uttered  in  debate  is  read  by  a  million  of  people  on  the 
morrow.  Within  a  few  hours  after  an  important  division,  the 
lists  of  the  majority  and  the  minority  are  scanned  and  analyzed 
in  every  town  from  Plymouth  to  Inverness.  If  a  name  be  found 
where  it  ought  not  to  be,  the  apostate  is  certain  to  be  reminded 
in  sharp  language  of  the  promises  which  he  has  broken,  and  of 
the  professions  which  he  has  belied.  At  present,  thei-efore,  the 
best  way  in  which  a  government  can  secure  the  support  of  a 
majority  of  the  representative  body  is  by  gaining  the  confidence 
of  the  nation. 

But  between  the  time  when  our  Parliaments  ceased  to  be 
controlled  by  royal  prerogative  and  the  time  when  they  began 
to  be  constantly  and  effectually  controlled  by  public  opinion 
there  was  a  long  interval.  After  the  restoration,  no  govern- 
ment  ventured  to  return  to  those  methods  by  which,  before  the 
civil  war,  the  freedom  of  deliberation  had  been  restrained.  A 
member  could  no  longer  be  called  to  account  for  his  harangues 
or  his  votes.  He  might  obstruct  the  passing  of  bills  of  supply; 
he  might  arraign  the  whole  foreign  policy  of  the  country ;  he 
might  lay  on  the  table  articles  of  impeachment  against  all  the 
chief  ministers;  and  he  ran  not  the  smallest  risk  of  being 
treated  as  Morrice  had  been  treated  by  Elizabeth,  or  Eliot  by 
Charles  the  First.  The  senator  now  stood  in  no  awe  of  the 
Court.  Nevertheless,  all  the  defences  behind  which  the  feeble 
Parliaments  of  the  sixteenth  century  had  entrenched  themselves 
against  the  attacks  of  prerogative  were  not  only  still  kept  up, 
but  were  extended  and  strengthened.  No  politician  seems  to 
have  been  aware  that  these  defences  were  no  longer  needed  for 
their  original  purpose,  and  had  begun  to  serve  a  purpose  very 
different.  The  rules  which  had  been  originally  designed  to 
secure  faithful  representatives  against  the  displeasure  of  the 
Sovereign,  now  operated  to  secure  unfaithful  representatives 
against  the  displeasure  of  the  people,  and  proved  much  more 
effectual  for  the  latter  end  than  they  had  ever  been  for  the 
former.  It  was  natural,  it  was  inevitable,  that,  in  a  legislative 
body  emancipated  from  the  restraints  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
and  not  yet  subjected  to  the  restraints  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, in  a  legislative  body  which  feared  neither  the  King  nor 
the  public,  there  should  be  corruption. 

The  plague  spot  began  to  be  visible  and  palpable  in  the 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


days  of  the  Cabal.    Clifford,  the  boldest  and  fiercest  of  the 

wicked  Five,  had  the  merit  of  discovering  that  a  noisy  patriot, 
whom  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  send  to  prison,  might  be 
turned  into  a  courtier  by  a  goldsmith's  note.  Clifford's  example 
was  followed  by  his  successors.  It  soon  became  a  proverb 
that  a  Parliament  resembled  a  pump.  Often,  the  wits  said, 
when  a  pump  appears  to  be  dry,  if  a  very  small  quantity  of 
water  is  poured  in,  a  great  quantity  of  water  gushes  out :  and 
so,  when  a  Parliament  appears  to  be  niggardly,  ten  thousand 
pounds  judiciously  given  in  bribes  will  often  produce  a  million 
in  supplies.  The  evil  was  not  diminished,  nay,  it  was  aggra* 
vzited,  by  that  Revolution  which  freed  our  country  from  so 
many  other  evils.  The  House  of  Commons  was  now  more 
powerful  than  ever  as  against  the  Crown,  and  yet  was  not  more 
strictly  responsible  than  formerly  to  the  nation.  The  govern- 
ment had  a  new  motive  for  buying  the  members ;  and  the 
members  had  no  new  motive  for  refusing  to  sell  themselves. 
William,  indeed,  had  an  aversion  to  bribery  :  he  resolved  to 
abstain  from  it ;  and  during  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  he  kept 
his  resolution.  Unhappily  the  events  of  that  year  did  not 
encourage  him  to  persevere  in  his  good  intentions.  As  soon 
as  Caermarthen  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  internal  ad- 
ministration of  the  realm,  a  complete  change  took  place.  He 
was  in  truth  no  novice  in  the  art  of  purchasing  votes.  He  had, 
sixteen  years  before,  succeeded  Clifford  at  the  Treasury,  had 
inherited  Clifford's  tactics,  had  improved  upon  them,  and  had 
employed  them  to  an  extent  which  would  have  amazed  the 
inventor.  From  the  day  on  which  Caermarthen  was  called  a 
second  time  to  the  chief  direction  of  affairs,  parliamentary 
corruption  continued  to  be  practised,  with  scarcely  any  inter- 
mission, by  a  long  succession  of  statesmen,  till  the  close  of  the 
American  war.  Neither  of  the  great  English  parties  can  justly 
charge  the  other  with  any  peculiar  guilt  on  this  account.  The 
Tories  were  the  first  who  introduced  the  system  and  the  last 
who  clung  to  it  :  but  it  attained  its  greatest  vigor  in  the  time 
of  Whig  ascendency.  The  extent  to  which  parliamentary 
support  was  bartered  for  money  cannot  be  with  any  precision 
ascertained.  But  it  seems  probable  that  the  number  of  hire- 
lings was  greatly  exaggerated  by  vulgar  report,  and  was  never 
large,  though  often  sufficient  to  turn  the  scale  on  important 
divisions.  An  unprincipled  minister  eagerly  accepted  the 
services  of  these  mercenaries.  An  honest  minister  reluctantly 
submitted,  for  the  sake  of  the  commonwealth,  to  what  he  con-* 
sidered  as  a  shameful  and  odious  extortion.    But  during  many 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY, 


4^5 


yeirs  every  minister,  whatever  his  personal  character  might  be, 
consented,  willingly  or  unwillingly,  to  manage  the  Parliament 
in  the  only  way  in  which  the  Parliament  could  then  be  man- 
aged. It  at  length  became  as  notorious  that  there  was  a  market 
for  votes  at  the  Treasury  as  that  there  was  a  market  for  cattle 
in  Smithfield.  Numerous  demagogues  out  of  power  declaimed 
against  this  vile  traffic  :  but  every  one  of  those  demagogues, 
as  soon  as  he  was  in  power,  found  himself  driven  by  a  kind  of 
fatality  to  engage  in  that  traffic,  or  at  least  to  connive  at  it. 
Now  and  then  perhaps  a  man  who  had  romantic  notions  of 
public  virtue  refused  to  be  himself  the  paymaster  of  the  corrupt 
crew,  and  averted  his  eyes  while  his  less  scrupulous  colleagues 
did  that  which  he  knew  to  be  indispensable,  and  yet  felt  to  be 
degrading.  But  the  instances  of  this  prudery  were  rare  indeed. 
The  doctrine  generally  received,  even  among  upright  and 
honorable  politicians,  was  that  it  was  shameful  to  receive 
bribes,  but  that  it  was  necessary  to  distribute  them.  It  is  a 
remarkable  fact  that  the  evil  reached  the  greatest  height 
during  the  administration  of  Henry  Pelham,  a  statesman  of 
good  intentions,  of  spotless  morals  in  private  life,  and  of 
exemplary  disinterestedness.  It  is  not  difficult  to  guess  by 
what  arguments  he  and  other  well  meaning  men,  who,  like  him, 
followed  the  fashion  of  their  age,  quieted  their  consciences. 
No  casuist,  however  severe,  has  denied  that  it  may  be  a  duty 
to  give  what  it  is  a  crime  to  take.  It  was  infamous  in  Jeffreys 
to  demand  money  foi  the  lives  of  the  unhappy  prisoners  whom 
he  tried  at  Dorchester  and  Taunton.  But  it  was  not  infamous, 
nay,  it  was  laudable,  in  the  kinsmen  and  friends  of  a  prisoner 
to  contribute  of  their  substance  in  order  to  make  up  a  purse 
for  Jeffreys.  The  Sallee  rover,  who  threatened  to  bastinado  a 
Christian  captive  to  death  unless  a  ransom  was  forthcoming, 
was  an  odious  ruffian.  But  to  ransom  a  Christian  captive 
from  a  Sallee  rover  was,  not  merely  an  innocent,  but  a  highly 
meritorious  act.  It  is  improper  in  such  cases  to  use  the  word 
corruption.  Those  who  receive  the  filthy  lucre  are  corrupt 
already.  He  who  bribes  them  does  not  make  them  wicked  : 
he  finds  them  so  ;  and  he  merely  prevents  their  evil  propen- 
sities from  producing  evil  effects.  And  might  not  the  same 
plea  be  urged  in  defence  of  a  minister  who,  when  no  other  ex- 
pedient would  avail,  paid  greedy  and  low-minded  members  of 
Parliament  not  to  ruin  their  country  ? 

It  was  by  some  such  reasoning  as  this  that  the  scruples  of 
William  were  overcome.  Honest  Burnet,  with  the  uncourtlv 
courage  which  distinguished  him,  ventured  to  remonstrate  witA 


426 


HISTORY  or  ENGLANiX 


the  King.  "  Nobody/'  WilHam  answered,  "  hates  bribery  more 
than  I.  But  I  have  to  do  with  a  set  of  men  who  must  be  man* 
aged  in  this  vile  way  or  not  at  all.  I  must  strain  a  point ;  or 
the  cotmtry  is  lost." 

It  was  necessary  for  the  Lord  President  to  have  in  the 
House  of  Commons  an  agent  for  the  purchase  of  members ; 
and  Lowther  was  both  too  awkward  and  too  scrupulous  to  be 
such  an  agent.  But  a  man  in  whom  craft  and  profligacy  were 
united  in  a  high  degree,  was  without  difliculty  found.  This  was 
the  Master  of  the  Rolls,  Sir  John  Trevor,  who  had  been  Speaker 
in  the  single  Parliament  held  by  James.  High  as  Trevor  had 
risen  in  the  world,  there  were  people  who  could  still  remember 
him  a  strange  looking  clerk  in  the  Inner  Temple.  Indeed, 
nobody  who  had  ever  seen  him  was  likely  to  forget  him.  For 
his  grotesque  features  and  his  hideous  squint  were  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  caricature.  His  parts,  which  were  quick  and 
vigorous,  had  enabled  him  early  to  master  the  science  of 
chicane.  Gambling  and  betting  were  his  amusements ;  and 
out  of  these  amusements  he  contrived  to  extract  much  business 
in  the  way  of  his  profession.  For  his  opinion  on  a  question  • 
arising  out  of  a  wager  or  a  game  at  chance  had  as  much 
*  authority  as  a  judgment  of  any  court  in  Westminster  Hall.  He 
soon  rose  to  be  one  of  the  boon  companions  whom  Jeffreys 
hugged  in  fits  of  maudlin  friendship  over  the  bottle  at  night, 
and  cursed  and  reviled  in  court  on  the  morrow.  Under  such  a 
teacher,  Trevor  rapidly  became  a  proficient  in  that  peculiar 
kind  of  rhetoric  which  had  enlivened  the  trials  of  Baxter  and 
of  Alice  Lisle.  Report  indeed  spoke  of  some  scolding  matches 
between  the  Chancellor  and  his  friend,  in  which  the  disciple 
had  been  not  less  voluble  and  scurrilous  than  the  master. 
These  contests,  however,  did  not  take  place  till  the  younger 
adventurer  had  attained  riches  and  dignities  such  that  he  no 
longer  stood  in  need  of  the  patronage  which  had  raised  him.f 
Among  High  Churchmen  Trevor,  in  spite  of  his  notorious  want 
of  principle,  had  at  this  time  a  certain  popularity,  which  he 
seems  to  have  owed  chiefly  to  their  conviction  that,  however 
insincere  he  might  be  in  general,  his  hatred  of  the  dissenters 
was  genuine  and  hearty.  There  was  little  doubt  that,  in  a 
House  of  Commons  in  which  the  Tories  had  a  majority,  he 
might  easily,  with  the  support  of  the  Court,  be  chosen  Speaker. 
He  was  impatient  to  be  again  in  his  old  post,  which  he  well 
knew  how  to  make  one  of  the  most  lucrative  in  the  kingdom 


*  Buraet,  U.  jik 


t  Roger  North's  Life  of  Guild£onL 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


427 


and  he  willingly  undertook  that  secret  and  shameful  office  tot 
which  Lowther  was  altogether  unqualified. 

Richard  Hampden  was  appointed  Chancellor  of  the  Ex* 
chequer.  This  appointment  was  probably  intended  as  a  mark 
of  royal  gratitude  for  the  moderation  of  his  conduct,  and  for 
the  attempts  which  he  had  made  to  curb  the  violence  of  his 
Whig  friends,  and  especially  of  his  son. 

Godolphin  voluntarily  left  the  Treasury;  why,  we  are  not 
informed.  We  can  scarcely  doubt  that  the  dissolution  and  the 
result  of  the  general  election  must  have  given  him  pleasure. 
For  his  political  opinions  leaned  towards  Toryism  ;  and  he  had, 
in  the  late  reign,  done  some  things  which,  though  not  very 
heinous,  stood  in  need  of  an  indemnity.  It  is  probable  that 
he  did  not  think  it  compatible  with  his  personal  dignity  to  sit 
at  the  Board  below  Lowther,  who  was  in  rank  his  inferior. 

A  new  Commission  of  Admiralty  was  issued.  At  the  head 
of  the  naval  administration  was  placed  Thomas  Herbert,  Earl 
of  Pembroke,  a  high-born  and  high-bred  man  who  had  ranked 
among  the  Tories,  who  had  voted  for  a  Regency,  and  who  had 
married  the  daughter  of  Sawyer.  That  Pembroke's  Toryism, 
however,  was  not  of  a  narrow  and  illiberal  kind  is  sufficiently 
proved  by  the  fact  that,  immediately  after  the  Revolution,  the 
Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding  was  dedicated  to  him  by 
John  Locke,  in  token  of  gratitude  for  kind  offices  done  in  evil 
times.f 

Nothing  was  omitted  which  could  reconcile  Torrington  to 
this  change.  For,  though  he  had  been  found  an  incapable 
administrator,  he  still  stood  so  high  in  general  estimation  as  a 
seaman  that  the  government  was  unwilling  to  lose  his  services. 
He  was  assured  that  no  slight  was  intended  to  him.  He  could 
not  serve  his  country  at  once  on  the  ocean  and  at  Westminster ; 
and  it  had  been  thought  less  difficult  to  supply  his  place  in  his 
office  than  on  the  deck  of  his  flagship.  He  was  at  first  very 
angry,  and  actually  laid  down  his  commission :  but  some  con- 
cessions were  made  to  his  pride  :  a  pension  of  three  thousand 
pounds  a  year  and  a  grant  of  ten  thousand  acres  of  crown  land 
in  the  Peterborough  level  were  irresistible  baits  to  his  cupidity ; 
and,  in  an  evil  hour  for  England,  he  consented  to  remain  at  the 


*  Till  some  years  after  this  time  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  was  always  the  man  oi 
highest  rank  at  the  Board.  Thus  Monmouth,  Delamere,  and  Godolphin  took  their  places 
according  to  the  order  of  precedence  in  which  they  stood  as  peers. 

t  The  dedication,  however,  was  thought  too  laudatory.  "  The  only  thing,  Mr.  Pop« 
used  to  say,  he  could  never  forgive  his  philosophic  master  ^as  the  dedication  to  tn^ 
Essay.*' —Ruff head's  Life  of  Pope. 


428  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


head  of  the  naval  force  on  which  the  safety  of  her  coasts  de- 
pended* 

While  these  changes  were  making  in  the  offices  round  White- 
hall,-the  Commissions  of  Lieutenancy  all  over  the  kingdom 
were  revised.  The  Tories  had,  during  twelve  months,  been 
complaining  that  their  share  in  the  government  of  the  districts 
in  which  they  lived  bore  no  proportion  to  their  number,  to  their 
wealth,  and  to  the  consideration  which  they  enjoyed  in  society. 
They  now  regained  with  great  delight  their  former  position  in 
their  shires.  The  Whigs  raised  a  cry  that  the  King  was  foully 
betrayed,  and  that  he  had  been  induced  by  evil  counsellors  to 
put  the  sword  into  the  hands  of  men  who,  as  soon  as  a  favora- 
ble opportunity  offered,  would  turn  the  edge  against  himself. 
In  a  dialogue  which  was  believed  to  have  been  written  by  the 
newly  created  Earl  of  Warrington,  and  which  had  a  wide 
circulation  at  the  time,  but  has  long  been  forgotten,  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  a  county  was  introduced  expressing  his  apprehen- 
sions that  the  majority  of  his  deputies  were  traitors  at  heart.f 
But  nowhere  was  the  excitement  produced  by  the  new  distribu- 
tion of  power  so  great  as  in  the  capital.  By  a  Commission  of 
Lieutenancy  which  had  been  issued  immediately  after  the  Revolu- 
tion, the  trainbands  of  London  had  been  put  under  the  command 
of  stanch  Whigs.  Those  powerful  and  opulent  citizens  whose 
names  were  omitted  alleged  that  the  list  was  filled  with  elders 
of  Puritan  congregations,  with  Shaftesbury's  brisk  boys,  with 
Rye  House  plotters,  and  that  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  find, 
mingled  with  that  multitude  of  fanatics  and  levellers,  a  single 
man  sincerely  attached  to  monarchy  and  to  the  Church.  A 
new  Commission  now  appeared  framed  by  Caermarthen  and 
Nottingham.  They  had  taken  counsel  with  Compton,  the 
Bishop  of  the  diocese  ;  and  Compton  was  not  a  very  discreet 
adviser.  He  had  originally  been  a  High  Churchman  and  a 
Tory.  The  severity  with  which  he  had  been  treated  in  the  late 
reign  had  tranformed  him  into  a  Latitudinarian  and  a  rebel ; 
and  he  had  now^  from  jealousy  of  Tillotson,  turned  High  Church- 
man and  Tory  again.  The  changes  which  were  made  by  his 
recommendation  raised  a  storm  in  the  City.  The  Whigs  com- 
plained that  they  were  ungratefully  proscribed  by  a  government 
which  owed  its  existence  to  them  ;  that  some  of  the  best 

•  Van  enters  to  tTic  States  General,^-^^'  1690 ;  Narcissus  Luttrell'i  Diary ;  Treas- 
ury Letter  Book,  Feb,  4,  1689-90. 

t  The  Dialogue  between  a  Lord  Lieutenant  and  one  of  his  Deputies  will  not  be  found 
in  the  collection  of  Warrington*s  writings  which  was  published  in  1694,  under  the  sanction^ 
as  it  should  seem,  of  his  fanuly. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


429 


friends  of  King  William  had  been  dismissed  with  contumely  to 
make  room  for  some  of  his  worst  enemies,  for  men  who  were  as 
unworthy  of  trust  as  any  Irish  Rapparee,  for  men  who  had  de- 
livered up  to  a  tyrant  the  charter  and  the  immemorial  privi- 
leges of  London,  for  men  who  had  made  themselves  notorious 
by  the  cruelty  with  which  they  had  enforced  the  penal  laws 
against  Protestant  dissenters,  nay,  for  men  who  had  sate  on 
those  juries  which  had  found  Russell  and  Cornish  guilty.*  The 
discontent  was  so  great  that  it  seemed,  during  a  short  time, 
likely  to  cause  pecuniary  embarrassment  to  the  State.  The 
supplies  voted  by  the  late  Parliament  came  in  slowly.  The 
wants  of  the  public  service  were  pressing.  In  such  circum- 
stances it  was  to  the  citizens  of  ihe  capital  that  the  government 
always  looked  for  help  ;  and  the  government  of  William  had 
hitherto  looked  especially  to  those  citizens  who  professed  Whig 
opinions.  Things  were  now  changed.  A  few  eminent  Whigs, 
in  their  first  anger,  sullenly  refused  to  advance  money.  Nay, 
one  or  two  unexpectedly  withdrew  considerable  sums  from  the 
Exchequer. t  The  financial  difficulties  might  have  been  serious, 
had  not  some  wealthy  Tories,  who,  if  SacheverelFs  clause  had 
become  law,  would  have  been  excluded  from  all  municipal 
honors,  offered  the  Treasury  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  down, 
and  promised  to  raise  a  still  larger  sum.t 

While  the  City  was  thus  agitated,  came  a  day  appointed  by 
royal  proclamation  for  a  general  fast.  The  reasons  assigned 
for  this  solemn  act  of  devotion  were  the  lamentable  state  of 
Ireland  and  the  approaching  departure  of  the  King.  Prayers 
were  offered  up  for  the  safety  of  His  Majesty's  person  and  for 
the  success  of  his  arms.  The  churches  of  London  were  crowded. 
The  most  eminent  preachers  of  the  capital,  who  were,  with 
scarcely  an  exception,  either  moderate  Tories  or  moderate 
Whigs,  did  their  best  to  calm  the  public  mind,  and  earnestly 
exhorted  their  flocks  not  to  withhold,  at  this  great  conjuncture, 
a  hearty  support  from  the  prince,  with  whose  fate  was  bound 
up  the  fate  of  the  whole  nation.  Burnet  told  a  large  congre- 
gation from  the  pulpit  how  the  Greeks,  when  the  great  Turk 
was  preparing  to  besiege  Constantinople,  could  not  be  per- 


•  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  March  18-28,  April  4-14,  1690  ;  Narcissus  Lut' 
trelPs  Diarv  ;  Burnet,  ii.  72.  Tke  Triennial  Mayor,  or  the  Rapparees,  a  Poem,  1691.  Tht 
poet  says  01  one  of  th^new  civil  functionaries  : 

•*  Soon  his  pretence  to  conscience  we  can  rout, 
And  in  a  bloody  jury  find  him  out, 
Where  noble  Publius  worried  was  with  n^ues*** 
t  Treasury  Minute  Book,  Feb.  5,  1689-90. 
%  Van  Citters,  Feb*  ii*ai,  Mar.  14*24,  Mar.  18-28,  16901. 


43^ 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


suaded  to  contribute  any  part  of  their  wealth  for  the  common 
defence,  and  how  bitterly  they  repented  of  their  avarice  when 
they  were  compelled  to  deliver  up  to  the  victorious  infidels  the 
treasures  which  had  been  refused  to  the  supplications  of  the 
last  Christian  emperor.* 

The  Whigs,  however,  as  a  party,  did  not  stand  in  need  of 
such  an  admonition.  Grieved  and  angry  as  they  were,  they 
were  perfectly  sensible  that  on  the  stability  of  the  throne  of 
William  depended  all  that  they  most  highly  prized.  What 
some  of  them  might,  at  this  conjuncture,  have  been  tempted  to 
do  if  they  could  have  found  another  leader,  if,  for  example, 
their  Protestant  Duke,  their  King  Monmouth,  had  still  been 
living,  may  be  doubted.  But  their  only  choice  was  between 
the  Sovereign  whom  they  had  set  up  and  the  Sovereign  whom 
they  had  pulled  down.  It  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if 
they  had  taken  part  with  James  in  order  to  punish  William, 
when  the  worst  fault  which  they  imputed  to  William  was  that 
he  did  not  participate  in  the  vindictive  feeling  with  which  they 
remembered  the  tyranny  of  James.  Much  as  they  disliked  the 
Bill  of  Indemnity,  they  had  not  forgotten  the  Bloody  Circuit. 
They  therefore,  even  in  their  ill  humor,  continued  true  to  their 
own  King,  and,  while  grumbling  at  him,  were  ready  to  stand 
by  him  against  his  adversary  with  their  lives  and  fortunes.! 

There  were  indeed  exceptions  :  but  they  were  very  few ; 
and  they  were  to  be  found  almost  exclusively  in  two  classes, 
which,  though  widely  differing  from  each  other  in  social  posi- 
tion, closely  resembled  each  other  in  laxity  of  principle.  All 
the  Whigs  who  are  known  to  have  trafficked  with  Saint  Ger- 
mains,  belonged,  not  to  the  main  body  of  the  party,  but  either 
to  the  head  or  to  the  tail.  They  were  either  patricians  high 
in  rank  and  office,  or  caitiffs  who  had  long  been  employed  in 
the  foulest  drudgery  of  faction.  To  the  former  class  belonged 
Shrewsbury.  Of  the  latter  class  the  most  remarkable  specimen 
was  Robert  Ferguson.  From  the  day  on  which  the  Convention 
Parliament  was  dissolved,  Shrewsbury  began  to  waver  in  his 
allegiance  :  but  that  he  had  ever  wavered  was  not,  till  long 
after,  suspected  by  the  public.  That  Ferguson  had,  a  few 
months  after  the  Revolution,  become  a  furious  Jacobite,  was 
no  secret  to  anybody,  and  ought  not  to  have  been  matter  of 
surprise  to  anybody.'  For  his  apostasy  he  could  not  plead  even 
the  miserable  excuse  that  he  had  been  neglected.    The  igno- 

*  Van  Citters,  March  14-26,  1690.  But  he  is  mistaken  as  to  the  preacher.  The 
sermon  is  extant.    It  was  preached  at  Bow  Chlirch  before  the  Court  of  Aldermen. 

t  Welwood's  Mercurius  Reformatus,  Feb.  la,  i690»  .  . 


iriLLIAM  AND  MARY, 


43« 


mmious  services  which  he  had  formerly  rendered  to  his  party  as 
a  spy,  a  raiser  of  riots,  a  dispenser  of  bribes,  a  writer  of  libels, 
a  prompter  of  false  witnesses,  had  been  rewarded  only  too 
prodigally  for  the  honor  of  the  new  government.  That  he 
should  hold  any  high  office  was  of  course  impossible.  But  a 
sinecure  place  of  five  hundred  a  year  had  been  created  for  him 
in  the  department  of  the  Excise.  He  now  had  what  to  him 
was  opulence  :  but  opulence  did  not  satisfy  him.  For  money 
indeed  he  had  never  scrupled  to  be  guilty  of  fraud  aggravated 
by  hypocrisy  :  yet  the  love  of  money  was  not  his  strongest 
passion.  Long  habit  had  developed  in  him  a  moral  disease 
from  which  people  who  have  made  political  agitation  their 
calling  are  seldom  wholly  free.  He  could  not  be  quiet. 
Sedition,  from  being  his  business,  had  become  his  pleasure. 
It  was  as  impossible  for  him  to  live  without  doing  mischief  as 
for  an  old  dram  drinker  or  an  old  opium  eater  to  live  without 
the  daily  dose  of  poison.  The  very  discomforts  and  hazards 
of  a  lawless  life  had  a  strange  attraction  for  him.  He  could 
no  more  be  turned  into  a  peaceable  and  loyal  subject  than  the 
fox  can  be  turned  into  a  shepherd's  dog,  or  than  the  kite  can 
be  taught  the  habits  of  the  barn-door  fowl.  The  Red  Indian 
prefers  his  hunting  ground  to  cultivated  fields  and  stately 
cities :  the  gypsy,  sheltered  by  a  commodious  roof,  and  pro- 
vided with  meat  in  due  season,  still  pines  for  the  ragged  tent 
on  the  moor  and  the  chance  meal  of  carrion  ;  and  even  so 
Ferguson  became  weary  of  plenty  and  security,  of  his  salary, 
his  house,  his  table,  and  his  coach,  and  longed  to  be  again  the 
president  of  societies  into  which  none  could  enter  without  a 
password,  the  director  of  secret  presses^  the  distributor  of  in- 
flammatory pamphlets  ;  to  see  the  walls  placarded  with  de- 
scriptions of  his  person  and  offers  of  reward  for  his  apprehen- 
sion ;  to  have  six  or  seven  names,  with  a  different  wig  and 
cloak  for  each,  and  to  change  his  lodgings  thrice  a  week  at 
dead  of  night.  His  hostility  was  not  to  Popery  or  to  Protes- 
tantism, to  monarchical  government  or  to  republican  govern- 
ment, to  the  House  of  Stuart  or  to  the  House  of  Nassau,  but 
to  whatever  was  at  the  time  established. 

By  the  Jacobites  this  new  ally  was  eagerly  welcomed.  They 
were  at  that  moment  busied  with  schemes  in  which  the  help  of 
a  veteran  plotter  was  much  needed.  There  had  been  a  great 
stir  among  them  from  the  day  on  which  it  had  been  announced 
that  William  had  determined  to  take  the  command  in  Ireland ; 
and  they  were  all  looking  forward  with  impatient  hope  to  his 
departure.    He  was  not  one  of  those  princes  against  whom  mei 


43^ 


itlSTORY  OF  ENGLANIX 


lightly  venture  to  set  up  a  standard  of  rebellion.    His  courage, 

his  sagacity,  the  secrecy  of  his  counsels,  the  success  which  had 
generally  crowned  his  enterprises,  overawed  the  vulgar.  Even 
his  most  acrimonious  enemies  feared  him  at  least  as  much  as 
they  hated  him.  While  he  was  at  Kensington,  ready  to  take 
horse  at  a  moment's  notice,  malecontents  who  prized  their  heads 
and  their  estates  were  generally  content  to  vent  their  hatred  by 
drinking  confusion  to  his  hooked  nose,  and  by  squeezing  with 
significant  energy  the  orange  which  was  his  emblem.  But  their 
courage  rose  when  they  reflected  that  the  sea  would  soon  roll 
between  him  and  our  island.  In  the  military  and  political  caU 
culations  of  that  age,  thirty  leagues  of  water  were  as  important 
as  three  hundred  leagues  now  are.  The  winds  and  waves  tre* 
quently  interrupted  all  communication  between  England  and 
Ireland,  It  sometimes  happened  that,  during  a  fortnight  or 
three  weeks,  not  a  word  of  intelligence  from  London  reached 
Dublin.  Twenty  English  counties  might  be  up  in  arms  long 
before  any  rumor  that  an  insurrection  was  even  apprehended 
could  reach  Ulster.  Early  in  the  spring,  therefore,  the  leading 
malecontents  assembled  in  London  for  the  purpose  of  concert- 
ing an  extensive  plan  of  action,  and  corresponded  assiduously 
both  with  France  and  with  Ireland. 

Such  was  the  temper  of  the  English  factions  when,  on  the 
twentieth  of  March,  the  new  Parliament  met.  The  first  duty 
which  the  Commons  had  to  perform  was  that  of  choosing  a 
Speaker.  Trevor  was  proposed  by  Lowtner,  was  elected  with- 
out opposition,  and  was  presented  and  approved  with  the  ordi- 
nary ceremonial.  The  King  then  made  a  speech  in  which  he 
especially  recommended  to  the  consideration  of  the  Houses  two 
important  subjects,  the  settling  of  the  revenue  and  the  granting 
of  an  amnesty.  He  represented  strongly  the  necessity  of  de- 
spatch. Every  day  was  precious,  the  season  for  action  was  ap- 
proaching. "Let  not  us,''  he  said,  "be  engaged  in  debates 
while  our  enemies  are  in  the  field."  * 

The  first  subject  which  the  Commons  took  into  considera- 
tion was  the  state  of  the  revenue.  A  great  part  of  the  taxes 
had,  since  the  accession  of  William  and  Mary,  been  collected 
under  the  authority  of  Acts  passed  for  short  terms,  and  it  was 
now  time  to  determine  on  a  permanent  arrangement.  A  list  of 
the  salaries  and  pensions  for  which  provision  was  to  be  made 
was  laid  before  the  House  ;  and  the  amount  of  the  sums  thus 
expended  called  forth  very  just  complaints  from  the  indepen* 


*  CommoBS*  Jovmals,  March  ao,  at,  ti,  1689-^ 


WILLIAM  AND  M/.:IY. 


43J 


dent  members,  among  whom  Sir  Charles  Sedley  distinguished 
himself  by  his  sarcastic  pleasantry.  A  clever  speech  which  he 
made  against  the  placemen  stole  into  print  and  was  widely  cir- 
culated ;  it  has  since  been  often  republished ;  and  it  proves, 
what  his  poems  and  plays  might  make  us  doubt,  that  his  con- 
temporaries were  not  mistaken  in  considering  him  as  a  man  of 
parts  and  vivacity.  Unfortunately  the  ill-humor  which  the  sight 
of  the  Civil  List  caused  evaporated  in  jests  and  invectives  with- 
out producing  any  reform. 

The  ordinary  revenue  by  which  the  government  had  been 
supported  before  the  Revolution  had  been  partly  hereditary, 
and  had  been  partly  drawn  from  taxes  granted  to  each  sovereign 
for  life.  The  hereditary  revenue  had  passed,  with  the  crown, 
to  William  and  Mary.  It  was  derived  from  the  rents  of  the 
royal  domains,  from  fees,  from  fines,  from  wine  licenses,  from 
the  first  fruits  and  tenths  of  benefices,  from  the  receipts  of  the 
Post  Office,  and  from  that  part  of  the  excise  which  had,  im- 
mediately after  the  Restoration,  been  granted  to  Charles  the 
Second  and  to  his  successors  for  ever  in  lieu  of  the  feudal  ser 
vices  due  to  our  ancient  kings.  The  income  from  all  these 
sources  was  estimated  at  between  four  and  five  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds."* 

Those  duties  of  excise  and  customs  which  had  been  granted 
to  James  for  life  had,  at  the  close  of  his  reign,  yielded  about 
nine  hundred  thousand  pounds  annually.  William  naturally 
wished  to  have  this  income  on  the  same  terms  on  which  his 
uncle  had  enjoyed  it ;  and  his  ministers  did  their  best  to  gratify 
his  wishes.  Lowther  moved  that  the  grant  should  be  to  the 
King  and  Queen  for  their  joint  and  separate  lives,  and  spoke 
repeatedly  and  earnestly  in  defence  of  this  motion.  He  set 
forth  William's  claims  to  public  gratitude  and  confidence ;  the 
nation  rescued  from  Popery  and  arbitrary  power ;  the  Church 
delivered  from  persecution  ;  the  constitution  established  on  a 
firm  basis.  Would  the  Commons  deal  grudgingly  with  a  prince 
who  had  done  more  for  England  than  had  ever  been  done  for 
her  by  any  of  his  predecessors  in  so  short  a  time,  with  a  prince 
who  was  now  about  to  expose  himself  to  hostile  weapons  and 
pestilential  air  in  order  to  preserve  the  English  colony  in  Ire- 
land, with  a  prince  who  was  prayed  for  in  every  corner  of  the 
world  where  a  congregation  of  Protestants  could  meet  for  the 
worship  of  God  ?  t    But  on  this  subject  Lowther  harangued  in 


*  Commons'  Journals,  March  28,  1690,  and  March  i»  and  March  90$  t^H^ 
t  Grey's  Pebatea,  March  27.  and  2^  i6gp. 


434 


HISTORY  or  ENGLAND. 


vain.    Whigs  and  Tories  were  equally  fixed  in  the  opinion  that 

the  liberality  of  Parliaments  had  been  the  chief  cause  of  the 
disasters  of  the  last  thirty  years ;  that  to  the  liberality  of  the 
Parliament  of  1660  was  to  be  ascribed  the  misgovernment  of 
the  Cabal,  that  to  the  liberality  of  the  Parliament  of  1685  was 
to  be  abscribed  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence,  and  that  the 
Parliament  of  1690  would  be  inexcusable  if  it  did  not  profit  by 
experience.  After  much  dispute  a  compromise  was  made. 
That  portion  of  the  excise  which  had  been  settled  for  life  on 
James,  and  which  was  estimated  at  three  hundred  thousand 
pounds  a  year,  was  settled  on  William  and  Mary  for  their  joint 
and  separate  lives.  It  was  supposed  that  with  the  hereditary 
revenue,  and  with  three  hundred  thousand  a  year  more  from 
the  excise.  Their  Majesties  would  have,  independent  of  parlia- 
mentary control,  between  seven  and  eight  hundred  thousand  a 
year.  Out  of  this  income  was  to  be  defrayed  the  charge  both 
of  the  royal  household  and  of  those  civil  ofiices  of  which  a  list 
had  been  laid  before  the  House.  This  income  was,  therefore, 
called  the  Civil  List.  The  expenses  of  the  royal  household  are 
now  entirely  separated  from  the  expenses  of  the  civil  govern- 
ment ;  but,  by  a  whimsical  perversion,  the  name  of  Civil  List 
has  remained  attached  to  that  portion  of  the  revenue  which  is 
appropriated  to  the  expenses  of  the  royal  household.  It  is 
still  more  strange  that  several  neighboring  nations  should  have 
thought  this  most  unmeaning  of  all  names  worth  borrowing. 
Those  duties  of  customs  which  had  been  settled  for  life  on 
Charles  and  James  successively,  and  which,  in  the  year  before 
the  Revolution,  had  yielded  six  hundred  thousand  pounds,  were 
granted  to  the  Crown  for  a  term  of  only  four  years.^ 

William  was  by  no  means  well  pleased  with  this  arrange- 
ment. He  thought  it  unjust  and  ungrateful  in  a  people  whose 
liberties  he  had  saved  to  bind  him  over  to  his  good  behavior. 
*'The  gentlemen  of  England,"  he  said  to  Burnet,  "  trusted 
King  James,  who  was  an  enemy  of  their  religion  and  of  their 
laws  ;  and  they  will  not  trust  me  by  whom  their  religion  and 
their  laws  have  been  preserved."  Burnet  answered  very  prop- 
erly that  there  was  no  mark  of  personal  confidence  which  His 
Majesty  was  not  entitled  to  demand,  but  that  this  question  was 
not  a  question  of  personal  confidence.  The  Estates  of  the 
Realm  wished  to  establish  a  general  principle.  They  wished 
to  set  a  precedent  which  might  secure  a  remote  posterity  against 

*  Commons'  Journals,  Mar.  28,  1690.  Avery  clear  and  exact  account  of  the  way  in 
which  the  revenue  was  setUed  was  sent  by  Van  Qitter*  to  tlie  States  General,  April  /-i^fc 

1690, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


evils  such  as  the  indiscreet  liberality  of  former  parliaments  had 
produced.  "  From  those  evils  Your  Majesty  has  delivered  this 
generation.  By  accepting  the  gift  of  the  Commons  on  the 
terms  on  which  it  is  offered,  Your  Majesty  will  be  also  a  deliv- 
erer of  future  generations.*'  William  was  not  convinced  :  but 
he  had  too  much  wisdom  and  self-command  to  give  way  to  his 
ill  humor,  and  he  accepted  graciously  what  he  could  not  but 
consider  as  ungraciously  given.^ 

The  Civil  List  was  charged  with  an  annuity  of  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds  to  the  Princess  of  Denmark,  in  addition  to  an  an- 
nuity of  thirty  thousand  pounds  which  had  been  settled  on  her 
at  the  time  of  her  marriage.  This  arrangement  was  the  result 
of  a  compromise  which  had  been  effected  with  much  difficulty 
and  after  many  irritating  disputes.  The  King  and  Queen  had 
never,  since  the  commencement  of  their  reign,  been  on  very 
good  terms  with  their  sister.  That  William  should  have  been 
disliked  by  a  woman  who  had  just  sense  enough  to  perceive 
that  his  temper  was  sour  and  his  manners  repulsive,  and  who 
was  utterly  incapable  of  appreciating  his  higher  qualities,  is  not 
extraordinary.  But  Mary  was  made  to  be  loved.  So  lively 
and  intelligent  a  woman  could  not  indeed  derive  much  pleasure 
from  the  society  of  Anne,  who,  when  in  good  humor,  was 
meekly  stupid,  and,  when  in  bad  humor,  was  sulkily  stupid. 
Yet  the  Queen,  whose  kindness  had  endeared  her  to  her  hum- 
blest attendants,  would  hardly  have  made  an  enemy  of  one 
whom  it  was  her  duty  and  her  interest  to  make  a  friend,  had 
not  an  interest  strangely  potent  and  strangely  malignant  been 
incessantly  at  work  to  divide  the  Royal  House  against  itself. 
The  fondness  of  the  Princess  for  Lady  Marlborough  was  such 
as,  in  a  superstitious  age,  would  have  been  ascribed  to  some 
talisman  or  potion.  Not  only  had  the  friends,  in  their  confiden- 
tial intercourse  with  each  other,  dropped  all  ceremony  and  all 
titles,  and  become  plain  Mrs.  Morley  and  plain  Mrs.  Freeman ; 
but  even  Prince  George,  who  cared  as  much  for  the  dignity  of 
his  birth  as  he  was  capable  of  caring  for  anything  but  claret 
and  calvered  salmon,  submitted  to  be  Mr.  Morley.  The  count- 
ess boasted  that  she  had  selected  the  name  of  Freeman  because 
it  was  peculiarly  suited  to  the  frankness  and  boldness  of  her 
character  ;  and,  to  do  her  justice,  it  was  not  by  the  ordinary 
arts  of  courtiers  that  she  established  and  long  maintained  her 
despotic  empire  over  the  feeblest  of  minds.  She  had  little  of 
that  tact  which  is  the  characteristic  talent  of  her  sex  ;  she  wag 


Burnet,  ii.  43. 


438 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANDt 


far  too  violent  to  flatter  or  to  dissemble  :  but,  by  a  rare  cTiance, 

she  had  fallen  in  with  a  nature  on  which  dictation  and  contradic- 
tion acted  as  philters.  In  this  grotesque  friendship  all  the  loy- 
alty, the  patience,  the  self-devotion,  was  on  the  side  of  the  mis- 
tress. The  whims,  the  haughty  airs,  the  fits  of  ill  temper,  were 
on  the  side  of  the  waiting  woman. 

Nothing  is  more  curious  than  the  relation  in  which  the  two 
ladies  stood  to  Mr.  Freeman,  as  they  called  Marlborough.  In 
foreign  countries  people  knew  in  general  that  Anne  was  gov- 
erned by  the  Churchills.  They  knew  also  that  the  man  who 
appeared  to  enjoy  so  large  a  share  of  her  favor  was  not  only  a 
great  soldier  and  politician,  but  also  one  of  the  finest  gentlemen 
of  his  time,  that  his  face  and  figure  were  eminently  handsome, 
his  temper  at  once  bland  and  resolute,  his  manners  at  once 
engaging  and  noble.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  that 
graces  and  accomplishments  like  his  should  win  a  female  heart. 
On  the  Continent  therefore  many  persons  imagined  that  he  was 
Anne's  favored  lover  ;  and  he  was  so  described  in  contemporary 
French  libels  which  have  long  been  forgotten.  In  England  this 
calumny  never  gained  credit  even  with  the  vulgar,  and  is 
nowhere  to  be  found  even  in  the  most  ribald  doggrel  that  was 
sung  about  our  streets.  In  truth  the  Princess  seems  never  to 
have  been  guilty  of  a  thought  inconsistent  with  her  conjugal 
vows.  To  her,  Marlborough,  with  all  his  genius  and  his  valor, 
his  beauty  and  his  grace,  was  nothing  but  the  husband  of  her 
friend.  Direct  power  over  Her  Royal  Highness  he  had  none. 
He  could  influence  her  only  by  the  instrumentality  of  his  wife  ; 
and  his  wife  was  no  passive  instrument.  Though  it  is  impos- 
sible to  discover,  in  anything  that  she  ever  did,  said,  or  wrote, 
any  indication  of  superior  understanding,  her  fierce  passions 
and  strong  will  enabled  her  often  to  rule  a  husband  who  was 
born  to  rule  grave  senates  and  mighty  armies.  His  courage, 
that  courage  which  the  most  perilous  emergencies  of  war  only 
made  cooler  and  more  steady,  failed  him  when  he  had  to  en- 
counter his  Sarah's  ready  tears  and  voluble  reproaches,  the 
poutings  of  her  lip  and  the  tossings  of  her  head.  History  ex- 
hibits to  us  few  spectacles  more  remarkable  than  that  of  a 
great  and  wise  man,  who,  when  he  had  contrived  vast  and 
profound  schemes  of  policy,  could  carry  them  into  effect  only 
by  inducing  one  foolish  woman,  who  was  often  unmanageable, 
to  manage  another  woman  who  was  more  foolish  still. 

In  one  point  the  Earl  and  the  Countess  were  perfectly 
agreed.  They  were  equally  bent  on  getting  money  ;  though, 
when  it  was  got,  he  loved  to  hoard  it,  and  she  was  not  unwiW 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


437 


ling  to  spend  it.*  The  favor  of  the  Princess  they  both  regarded 
as  a  valuable  estate.  In  her  father's  reign  they  had  begun 
to  grow  rich  by  means  of  her  bounty.  She  was  naturally 
inclined  to  parsimony ,  and  even  when  she  was  on  the  throne, 
her  equipages  and  tables  were  by  no  means  sumptuous.f  It 
might  have  been  thought,  therefore,  that,  while  she  was  a 
subject,  thirty  thousand  a  year,  with  a  residence  in  the  palace, 
would  have  been  more  than  sufficient  for  all  her  wants.  There 
were  probably  not  in  the  kingdom  two  noblemen  possessed  of 
such  an  income.  But  no  income  would  satisfy  the  greediness 
of  those  who  governed  her.  She  repeatedly  contracted  debts 
which  James  repeatedly  discharged,  not  without  expressing 
much  surprise  and  displeasure. 

The  Revolution  opened  to  the  Churchills  a  new  and  bound- 
less prospect  of  gain.  The  whole  conduct  of  their  mistress  at 
the  great  crisis  had  proved  that  she  had  no  will,  no  judgment, 
no  conscience,  but  theirs.  To  them  she  had  sacrificed  affec- 
tions, prejudices,  habits,  interests.  In  obedience  to  them, 
she  had  joined  in  the  conspiracy  against  her  father ;  she  had 
fled  from  Whitehall  in  the  depth  of  winter,  through  ice  and 
mire,  to  a  hackney  coach  :  she  had  taken  refuge  in  the  rebel 
camp :  she  had  consented  to  yield  her  place  in  the  order  of 
succession  to  the  Prince  of  Orange.  They  saw  with  pleasure 
that  she,  over  whom  they  possessed  such  boundless  influence, 
possessed  no  common  influence  over  others.  Scarcely  had 
the  Revolution  been  accomplished  when  many  Tories,  dis- 
liking both  the  King  who  had  been  driven  out  and  the  King 
who  had  come  in,  and  doubting  whether  their  religion  had 
more  to  fear  from  Jesuits  or  from  Latitudinarians,  showed  a 
strong  disposition  to  rally  round  Anne.  Nature  had  made 
her  a  bigot.  Such  was  the  constitution  of  her  mind  that  to  the 
religion  of  her  nursery  she  could  not  but  adhere,  without  ex- 
amination and  without  doubt,  till  she  was  laid  in  her  coffin.  In 
the  court  of  her  father  she  had  been  deaf  to  all  that  could  be 
urged  in  favor  of  transubstantiation  and  auricular  confession. 
In  the  court  of  her  brother-in-law  she  was  equally  deaf  to  all 
that  could  be  urged  in  favor  of  a  general  union  among  Prot- 
estants.   This  slowness  and  obstinacy  made  her  important.  It 


•  In  a  contemporary  lampoon  are  these  lines  t 

**  Oh,  happy  couple  !    In  their  life 
There  does  appear  no  sign  of  strife  % 
They  do  agree  so  in  the  main^ 

To  sacrifice  their  souls  for  gain." — The  Female  Vdmtf  t6gO» 
t  Swift  mentions  the  deficiency  of  hospitality  and  maenifieeac*  fai  h«r  bovMMdL 
fmmwl  to  SteUsy  Aiurust  ^  171 1« 


43* 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


was  a  great  thing  to  be  the  only  member  of  the  Royal  Family 
who  regarded  Papists  and  Presbyterians  with  impartial  aversion. 
While  a  large  party  was  disposed  to  make  her  an  idol,  she  was 
regarded  by  her  two  artful  servants  merely  as  a  puppet  They 
knew  that  she  had  it  in  her  power  to  give  serious  annoyance  to 
the  government ;  and  they  determined  to  use  this  power  in 
order  to  extort  money,  nominally  for  her,  but  really  for  them- 
selves. While  Marlborough  was  commanding  the  English 
forces  in  the  Low  Countries,  the  execution  of  the  plan  was 
necessarily  left  to  his  wife  ;  and  she  acted,  not  as  he  would 
doubtless  have  acted,  with  prudence  and  temper,  but,  as  is  plain 
even  from  her  own  narrative,  with  odious  violence  and  insolence. 
Indeed  she  had  passions  to  gratify  from  which  he  was  altogether 
free.  He,  though  one  of  the  most  covetous,  was  one  of  the  least 
acrimonious  of  mankind :  but  malignity  was  in  her  a  stronger 
passion  than  avarice.  She  hated  easily  :  she  hated  heartily :  and 
she  hated  implacably.  Among  the  objects  of  her  hatred  were 
all  who  were  related  to  her  mistress  either  on  the  paternal  or  on 
the  maternal  side.  No  person  who  had  a  natural  interest  in  the 
Princess  could  observe  without  uneasiness  the  strange  infatua- 
tion which  made  her  the  slave  of  an  imperious  and  reckless 
termagant.  This  the  Countess  well  knew.  In  her  view  the 
Royal  Family  and  the  family  of  Hyde,  however  they  might  differ 
as  to  other  matters,  were  leagued  against  her ;  and  she  detested 
them  all,  James  and  James's  Queen,  William  and  Mary,  Claren- 
don and  Rochester.  Now  was  the  time  to  wreak  the  accumu- 
lated spite  of  years.  It  was  not  enough  to  obtain  a  great,  a 
regal,  revenue  for  Anne,  That  revenue  must  be  obtained  by 
means  which  would  wound  and  humble  those  whom  the  favorite 
abhorred.  It  must  not  be  asked,  it  must  not  be  accepted,  as  a 
mark  of  fraternal  kindness,  but  demanded  in  hostile  tones,  and 
wrung  by  force  from  reluctant  hands.  No  application  was 
made  to  the  King  and  Queen.  But  they  learned  with  astonish- 
ment that  Lady  Marlborough  was  indefatigable  in  canvassing 
the  Tory  members  of  Parliament,  that  a  Princess's  party  was 
forming,  that  the  House  of  Commons  would  be  moved  to  settle 
on  Her  Royal  Highness  a  vast  income  independent  of  the 
Crown.  Mary  asked  her  sister  what  these  proceedings  meant. 
"  I  hear,"  said  Anne,  "  that  my  friends  have  a  mind  to  make 
me  some  settlement.'*  It  is  said  that  the  Queen,  greatly  hurt 
by  an  expression  which  seemed  to  imply  that  she  and  her  hus* 
band  were  not  among  her  sister's  friends,  replied  with  un. 
wonted  sharpness.   "  Of  what  friends  do  you  speak  i  What 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY,  439 

friends  have  you  except  the  King  and  me  ?  "  ♦   The  subject 

was  never  again  mentioned  between  the  sisters.  Mary  was 
probably  sensible  that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  in  addressing 
herself  to  one  who  was  merely  a  passive  instrument  in  the  hands 
of  others.  An  attempt  was  made  to  open  a  negotiation  with 
the  Countess.  After  some  inferior  agents  had  expostulated 
with  her  in  vain,  Shrewsbury  waited  on  her.  It  might  have 
been  expected  that  his  intervention  would  have  been  successful : 
for,  if  the  scandalous  chronicle  of  those  times  could  be  trusted, 
he  had  stood  high,  too  high,  in  her  favor. f  He  was  authorized 
by  the  King  to  promise  that,  if  the  Princess  would  desist  from 
soliciting  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  to  support 
her  cause,  the  income  of  Her  Royal  Highness  should  be  increased 
from  thirty  thousand  pounds  to  fifty  thousand.  The  Countess 
flatly  rejected  this  offer.  The  King's  word,  she  had  the  inso- 
lence to  hint,  was  not  a  sufficient  security.  I  am  confident,'* 
said  Shrewsbury,  that  His  Majesty  will  strictly  fulfil  his  en- 
gagements. If  he  breaks  them  I  will  not  serve  him  an  hour 
longer."  "  That  may  be  very  honorable  in  you,"  answered  the 
pertinacious  vixen:  **but  it  will  be  very  poor  comfort  to  the 
Princess."  Shrewsbury  after  vainly  attempting  to  move  the 
s'^irvant,  was  at  length  admitted  to  an  audience  of  the  mistress, 
Anne,  in  language  doubtless  dictated  by  her  friend  Sarah,  told 
him  that  the  business  had  gone  too  far  to  be  stopped,  and  must 
be  left  to  the  decision  of  the  Commons,  t 

The  truth  was  that  the  Princess's  prompters  hoped  to  obtain 
from  Parliament  a  much  larger  sum  than  was  offered  by  the 
King.  Nothing  less  than  seventy  thousand  a  year  would  con- 
tent them.  But  their  cupidity  overreached  itself.  The  House 
of  Commons  showed  a  great  disposition  to  gratify  Her  Royal 
Highness.  But,  when  at  length  her  too  eager  adherents  ven- 
tured to  name  the  sum  which  they  wished  to  grant,  the  murmurs 
were  loud.  Seventy  thousand  a  year  at  a  time  when  the  neces- 
sary expenses  of  the  State  were  daily  increasing,  when  the 
receipt  of  the  customs  was  daily  diminishing,  when  trade  was 
low,  when  every  gentleman,  every  merchant,  was  retrenching 
something  from  the  charge  of  his  table  and  his  cellar !  The 
general  opinion  was  that  the  sum  which  the  King  was  under- 

*  Duchess  of  Marlborough's  Vindication.  But  the  Duchess  was  so  abandoned  a 
liar  that  it  is  impossible  to  believe  a  word  that  she  says,  except  when  she  accuses  her- 
self, 

t  See  the  Female  Nine. 

J  The  Duchess  of  Marlborough's  Vindication.  With  that  habitual  inaccuracy,  which, 
even  when  she  has  no  motive  for  lying,  makes  it  necessary  to  read  every  word  written  or 
?lictated  by  her  with  suspicion,  she  creates  Shrewsbury  a  Duke,  and  represents  hersell  ^ 
viil.ng  him  "  Your  Grace."   He  was  not  made  a  Duke  till  1694 


440  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Stood  to  be  willing  to  give  would  be  amply  sufficient.*  At  last 
something  was  conceded  on  both  sides.  The  Princess  was 
forced  to  content  herself  with  fifty  thousand  a  year ;  and 
William  agreed  that  this  sum  should  be  settled  on  her  by  Act 
of  Parliament.  She  rewarded  the  services  of  Lady  Marlborough 
with  a  pension  of  a  thousand  a  year ;  f  but  this  was  in  all 
probability  a  very  small  part  of  what  the  Churchills  gained  by 
the  arrangement. 

After  these  transactions  the  two  royal  sisters  continued  dur^ 
ing  many  months  to  live  on  terms  of  civility  and  even  of  ap- 
parent friendship.  But  Mary,  though  she  seems  to  have  borne 
no  malice  to  Anne,  undoubtedly  felt  against  Lady  Marlborough 
as  much  resentment  as  a  very  gentle  heart  is  capable  of  feeling. 
Marlborough  had  been  out  of  England  during  a  great  part  of 
the  time  which  his  wife  had  spent  in  canvassing  among  the 
Tories,  and,  though  he  had  undoubtedly  acted  in  concert  with 
her,  had  acted,  as  usual,  with  temper  and  decorum.  He  there- 
fore continued  to  receive  from  William  many  marks  of  favor 
which  were  unaccompanied  by  any  indication  of  displeasure. 

In  the  debates  on  the  settling  of  the  revenue,  the  distinction 
between  Whigs  and  Tories  does  not  appear  to  have  been  very 
clearly  marked.  In  truth,  if  there  was  anything  about  which 
the  two  parties  were  agreed,  it  was  the  expediency  of  granting 
the  customs  to  the  Crown  for  a  time  not  exceeding  four  years. 
But  there  were  other  questions  which  called  forth  the  old  animos- 
ity in  all  its  strength.  The  Whigs  were  now  a  minority,  but  a 
minority  formidable  in  numbers,  and  more  formidable  in  ability. 
They  carried  on  the  parliamentary  war,  not  less  acrimoniously 
than  when  they  were  a  majority,  but  somewhat  more  artfully. 
They  brought  forward  several  motions,  such  as  no  High  Church- 
man could  well  support,  yet  such  as  no  servant  of  William 
and  Mary  could  well  oppose.  The  Tory  who  voted  for  those 
motions  would  run  a  great  risk  of  being  pointed  at  as  a  turn- 
coat by  the  sturdy  Cavaliers  of  his  country.  The  Tory  who 
voted  against  those  motions  would  run  a  great  risk  of  being 
frowned  upon  at  Kensington. 

It  was  apparently  in  pursuance  of  this  policy  that  the  Whigs 
laid  on  the  table  of  the  House  of  Lords  a  bill  declaring  all  the 
laws  passed  by  the  Parliament  to  be  valid  laws.  No  sooner 
had  this  bill  been  read  than  tjhe  controversy  of  the  preceding 
spring  was  renewed.  The  Whigs  were  joined  on  this  occasion 
by  almost  all  those  noblemen  who  were  connected  with  the 


*  Commons'  Journals,  December  17  and  18,  1689. 
t  Ytodicatifflfi  o£  the  Puchess  ci  MarflMrough* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


441 


government.  The  rigid  Tories,  with  Nottingham  at  their  head, 
professed  themselves  willing  to  enact  that  every  statute  passed 
in  1689  should  have  the  same  force  that  it  would  have  had  if  it 
had  been  passed  by  a  parliament  convoked  in  a  regular  manner : 
but  nothing  would  induce  them  to  acknowledge  that  an  assem- 
blv  of  lords  and  gentlemen,  who  had  come  together  without 
authority  from  the  Great  Seal,  was  constitutionally  a  Parliament. 
Few  questions  seem  to  have  excited  stronger  passions  than  the 
question,  practically  altogether  unimportant,  whether  the  bill 
should  or  should  not  be  declaratory.  Nottingham,  always  up- 
right and  honorable,  but  a  bigot  and  a  formalist,  was  on  this 
subject  singularly  obstinate  and  unreasonable.  In  one  debate 
he  lost  his  temper,  forgot  the  decorum  which  in  general  he 
strictly  observed,  and  narrowly  escaped  being  committed  to 
the  custody  of  the  Black  Rod.*  After  much  wrangling,  the 
Whigs  carried  their  point  by  a  majority  of  seven.f  Many  peers 
signed  a  strong  protest  written  by  Nottingham.  In  this  protest 
the  bill,  which  was  indeed  open  to  verbal  criticism,  was  con- 
temptuously described  as  being  neither  good  English  nor  good 
sense.  The  majority  passed  a  resolution  that  the  protest 
should  be  expunged ;  and  against  this  resolution  Nottingham 
and  his  followers  again  protested. t  The  King  was  displeased 
by  the  pertinacity  of  his  Secretary  of  State  ;  so  much  displeased 
indeed  that  Nottingham  declared  his  intention  of  resigning  the 
Seals:  but  the  dispute  was  soon  accommodated.  William  was 
too  wise  not  to  know  the  value  of  an  honest  man  in  a  dishonest 
age.  The  very  scrupulosity  which  made  Nottinghana  a  mutineer 
was  a  security  that  he  would  never  be  a  traitor.§ 

The  Bill  went  down  to  the  Lower  House ;  and  it  was  fully 
expected  that  the  contest  there  would  be  long  and  fierce  ;  but 
a  single  speech  settled  the  question.  Somers^  with  a  force  and 
.eloquence  which  surprised  even  an  audience  accustomed  to 
hear  him  with  pleasure,  exposed  the  absurdity  of  the  doctrine 
held  by  the  High  Tories.  "  If  the  Convention,"—  't  was  thus 
that  he  argued, — "  was  not  a  Parliament,  how  can  we  be  a 
Parliament  ?  An  Act  of  Elizabeth  provides  that  no  person 
shall  sit  or  vote  in  this  House  till  he  has  taken  the  old  oath  of 
supremacy.  -  Not  one  of  us  has  taken  that  oath.  Instead  of  it, 
we  have  all  taken  the  new  oath  of  supremacy  which  the  late 

*  Van  Citters,  April  «-i8,  169a 

t  Van  Citters,  April  8.18  ;  Luttrell's  Diary. 

I  Lords'  Journals,  April  8  and  10, 1690 )  Btirntt|»  8. 4U 

|V«.Citter..-g!^.«» 

Vou  III.— IS 


442 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


Parliament  substituted  for  the  old  oath.  It  is,  therefore,  a  con- 
tradiction to  say  that  the  Acts  of  the  late  Parliament  are  not 
now  valid,  and  yet  to  ask  us  to  enact  that  they  shall  henceforth 
be  valid.  For  either  they  already  are  so,  or  we  never  can  make 
them  so."  This  reasoning,  which  was  in  truth  as  unanswerable 
as  that  of  Euclid,  brought  the  debate  to  a  speedy  close.  The 
,  bill  passed  the  Commons  within  forty-eight  hours  after  it  had 
been  read  the  first  time.^ 

This  was  the  only  victory  won  by  the  Whigs  during  the 
whole  session.  They  complained  loudly  in  the  Lower  House 
of  the  change  which  had  been  made  in  the  military  government 
of  the  City  of  London.  The  Tories,  conscious  of  their  strength, 
and  heated  by  resentment,  not  only  refused  to  censure  what  had 
been  done,  but  determined  to  express  publicly  and  formally  their 
gratitude  to  the  King  for  having  brought  in  so  many  churchmen 
and  turned  out  so  many  schismatics.  An  address  of  thanks  was 
moved  by  Clarges,  member  for  Westminster,  who  was  known 
to  be  attached  to  Caermarthen.  "  The  alterations  which  have 
been  made  in  the  City,"  said  Clarges,  "  show  that  His  Majesty 
has  a  tender  care  of  us.  I  hope  that  he  will  make  similar 
alterations  in  every  county  of  the  realm."  The  minority  strug- 
gled hard.  Will  you  thank  the  King,"  they  said,  "for  putting 
the  sword  into  the  hands  of  his  most  dangerous  enemies  ?  Some 
of  those  whom  he  had  been  advised  to  entrust  with  military 
command  have  not  yet  been  able  to  bring  themselves  to  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance  to  him.  Others  were  well  known,  in  the 
evil  days,  as  stanch  jurymen,  who  were  sure  to  find  an^Exclu- 
sionist  guilty  on  any  evidence  or  no  evidence."  Nor  did  the 
Whig  orators  refrain  from  using  those  topics  on  which  all  fac- 
tions are  eloquent  in  the  hour  of  distress,  and  which  all  factions 
are  but  too  ready  to  treat  lightly  in  the  hour  of  prosper- 
ity. Let  us  not,"  they  said,  "  pass  a  vote  which  conveys  a 
reflection  on  a  large  body  of  our  countrymen,  good  subjects, 
good  Protestants.  The  King  ought  to  be  the  head  of  his  whole 
people.  Let  us  not  make  him  the  head  of  a  party."  This  was 
excellent  doctrine  :  but  it  scarcely  became  the  lips  of  men  who, 
a  few  weeks  before,  had  opposed  the  Indemnity  Bill  and  voted 
for  the  Sacheverell  clause.  The  address  was  carried  by  a  hun- 
dred and  eight-five  votes  to  a  hundred  and  thirty-six.f 

As  soon  as  the  numbers  had  been  announced,  the  minority, 


•  Cotnmons*  Journals,  April  S  and  9,  1690  ;  Grey' a  Debate*  ;  Bnrnet,  ii.  42,  Va* 
Otter*,  writing  on  8th,  m«Atk»i  tliat  a  great  stnxggU  in  tb«  ]Uwor  House  wa«  c^t 
MCted, 

t  Cwhbmm'  Journals,  AprU  «4«  *^  i  Grey's  Deto^ 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


443 


smarting  from  their  defeat,  brought  forward  a  motion  which 
caused  no  little  embarrassment  to  the  Tory  placemen.  The 
oath  of  allegiance,  the  Whigs  said,  was  drawn  in  terms  far  too 
lax.  It  might  exclude  from  public  employment  a  few  honest 
Jacobites  who  were  generally  too  dull  to  be  mischievous  :  but 
it  was  altogether  inefficient  as  a  means  of  binding  the  supple 
and  slippery  consciences  of  cunning  priests,  who,  while  affect- 
ing to  hold  the  Jesuits  in  abhorrence,  were  proficients  in  that 
immoral  casuistry  which  was  the  worst  part  of  Jesuitism.  Some 
grave  divines  had  openly  said,  others  had  even  dared  to  write, 
that  they  had  sworn  fealty  to  William  in  a  sense  altogether 
different  from  that  in  which  they  had  sworn  fealty  to  James. 
To  James  they  had  plighted  the  entire  faith  which  a  loyal  sub- 
ject owes  to  a  rightful  sovereign  :  but,  when  they  promised  to 
bear  true  allegiance  to  William,  they  meant  only  that  they 
would  not,  whilst  he  was  able  to  hang  them  for  rebelling  or 
conspiring  against  him,  run  any  risk  of  being  hanged.  None 
could  wonder  that  the  precepts  and  example  of  the  malecontent 
clergy  should  have  corrupted  the  malecontent  laity.  When  Pre- 
bendaries and  Rectors  were  not  ashamed  to  avow  that  they 
had  equivocated  in  the  very  act  of  kissing  the  Gospels,  it  was 
hardly  to  be  expected  that  attorneys  and  tax-gatherers  would 
be  more  scrupulous.  The  consequence  was  that  every  depart- 
ment sv/armed  with  traitors;  that  men  who  ate  the  King's 
bread,  men  who  were  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  collecting  and 
disbursing  his  revenues,  of  victualling  his  ships,  of  clothing  his 
soldiers,  of  making  his  artillery  ready  for  the  field,  were  in  the 
habit  of  calling  him  an  usurper,  and  of  drinking  to  his  speedy 
downfall.  Could  any  government  be  safe  which  was  hated  and 
betrayed  by  its  own  servants  ?  And  was  not  the  English  gov- 
ernment exposed  to  dangers  which  even  if  all  its  servants  were 
true,  might  well  excite  serious  apprehensions  ?  A  disputed 
succession,  war  with  France,  war  in  Scotland,  war  in  Ireland, 
was  not  all  this  enough  without  treachery  in  every  arsenal  and 
in  every  custom-house  ?  There  must  be  an.  oath  drawn  in  lan- 
guage too  precise  to  be  explained  away,  in  language  which  no 
Jacobite  could  repeat  without  the  consciousness  that  he  was 
perjuring  himself.  Though  the  zealots  of  indefeasible  heredi- 
tary right  had  in  general  no  objection  to  swear  allegiance  to 
William,  they  would  probably  not  choose  to  abjure  James.  On 
such  grounds  as  these,  an  Abjuration  Bill  of  extreme  severity 
was  brought  into  the  House  of  Commons.  It  was  proposed  to 
enact  that  every  person  who  held  any  office,  civil,  military,  or 
fpiritual,  should,  on  pain  of  deprivation,  solemnly  abjure  the 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND: 


exiled  King ;  that  the  oath  of  abjuration  might  be  tendered 
by  any  justice  of  the  peace  to  any  subject  of  Their  Majesties  ; 
and  that,  if  it  were  refused,  the  recusant  should  be  sent  to 
prison,  and  should  lie  there  as  long  as  he  continued  obstinate. 

The  severity  of  this  last  provision  was  generally  and  most 
justly  blamed.  To  turn  every  ignorant  meddling  magistrate 
into  a  state  inquisitor,  to  insist  that  a  plain  man,  who  lived 
peaceably,  who  obeyed  the  laws,  who  paid  his  taxes,  who  had 
never  held  and  who  did  not  expect  ever  to  hold  any  office,  and 
who  had  never  troubled  his  head  about  problems  of  political 
philosophy,  should  declare,  under  the  sanction  of  an  oath,  a  de- 
cided opinion  on  a  point  about  which  the  most  learned  doctors 
of  the  age  had  written  whole  libraries  of  controversial  books, 
and  to  send  him  to  rot  in  a  jail  if  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  swear,  would  surely  have  been  the  height  of  tyranny.  The 
clause,  which  required  public  functionaries,  on  pain  of  a  depri- 
vation, to  abjure  the  deposed  King,  was  not  open  to  the  same 
objection.  Yet  even  against  this  clause  some  weighty  argu- 
ments were  urged.  A  man,  it  was  said,  who  has  an  honest 
heart  and  a  sound  understanding,  is  sufficiently  bound  by  the 
present  oath.  Every  such  man  when  he  swears  to  be  faithful 
and  to  bear  true  allegiance  to  King  William,  does,  by  neces- 
sary implication,  abjure  King  James.  There  may  doubtless  be 
among  the  servants  of  the  State,  and  even  among  the  ministers 
of  the  Church,  some  persons  who  have  no  sense  of  honor  or  re- 
ligion, and  who  are  ready  to  forswear  themselves  for  lucre. 
There  may  be  others  who  have  contracted  the  pernicious  habit 
of  quibbling  away  the  most  sacred  obligations,  and  who  have 
convinced  themselves  that  they  can  innocently  make,  with  a 
mental  reservation,  a  promise  which  it  would  be  sinful  to  make 
without  such  a  reservation.  Against  these  two  classes  of  Jaco- 
bites it  is  true  that  the  present  test  affords  no  security.  But 
will  the  ne^».^test,  will  any  test,  be  more  efficacious  ?  Will  a 
person  who  Has  no  conscience,  or  a  person  whose  conscience 
can  be  set  at  rest  by  immoral  sophistry,  hesitate  to  repeat  any 
phrase  you  can  dictate  ?  The  former  will  kiss  the  book  without 
any  scruple  at  all.  The  scruples  of  the  latter  will  be  very 
easily  removed.  He  now  swears  allegiance  to  one  King  with  a 
mental  reservation.  He  will  then  abjure  the  other  King  with 
a  mental  reservation.  Do  not  flatter  yourselves  that  the  inge- 
nuity of  lawgivers  will  ever  devise  an  oath  which  the  ingenuity  of 
casuists  will  not  evade.  What  indeed  is  the  value  of  any  oath  in 
such  a  matter?  Among  the  many  lessons  which  the  troubles 
of  the  last  generation  have  left  us  none  is  more  plain  than  this. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


44$ 


that  no  form  of  words,  however  precise,  no  imprecation,  how- 
ever awful,  ever  saved,  or  ever  will  save,  a  government  from 
destruction.  Was  not  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  burned 
by  the  common  hangman  amidst  the  huzzas  of  tens  of  thou- 
sands who  had  themselves  subscribed  it  ?  Among  the  states- 
men and  warriors  who  bore  the  chief  part  in  restoring  Charles 
the  Second,  how  many  were  there  who  had  not  repeatedly  ab- 
jured him  ?  Nay,  is  it  not  well  known  that  some  of  those  per- 
sons boastfully  declared  that,  if  they  had  not  abjured  him,  they 
never  could  have  restored  him  ? 

The  debates  were  sharp ;  and  the  issue  during  a  short  time 
seemed  doubtful :  for  some  of  the  Tories  who  were  in  office 
were  unwilling  to  give  a  vote  which  might  be  thought  to  indi- 
cate that  ihey  were  lukewarm  in  the  cause  of  the  King  whom 
they  served.  William,  however,  took  care  to  let  it  be  under- 
stood that  he  had  no  wish  to  impose  a  new  test  on  his  subjects. 
A  few  words  from  him  decided  the  event  of  the  conflict.  The 
bill  was  rejected  thirty-six  hours  after  it  had  been  brought  in 
by  a  hundred  and  ninety-two  votes  to  a  hundred  and  sixty- five.^ 

Even  after  this  defeat  the  Whigs  pertinaciously  returned  to 
the  attack.  Having  failed  in  one  House  they  renewed  the 
battle  in  the  other,  Five  days  after  the  Abjuration  Bill  had 
been  thrown  out  in  the  Commons,  another  Abjuration  Bill, 
somewhat  milder,  but  still  very  severe,  was  laid  on  the  table  of 
the  Lords.f  What  was  now  proposed  was  that  no  person  should 
sit  in  either  House  of  Parliament  or  hold  any  office,  civil,  mili- 
tary, or  judicial,  without  making  a  declaration  that  he  would 
stand  by  William  and  Mary  against  James  and  James's  adhe- 
rents, .  Every  male  in  the  kingdom  who  had  attained  the  age  of 
sixteen  was  to  make  the  same  declaration  before  a  certain  day. 
If  he  failed  to  do  so  he  was  to  pay  double  taxes  and  to  be  in- 
capable of  exercising  the  elective  franchise. 

On  the  day  fixed  for  the  second  reading,  the  King  came 
down  to  the  House  of  Peers.  He  gave  his  assent  in  form  to 
several  laws,  unrobed,  took  his  seat  on  a  chair  of  state  which 
had  been  placed  for  him,  and  listened  with  much  interest  to  the 
debate.    To  the  general  surprise,  two  noblemen  who  had  been 

*  Commons'  Journals,  April  24,  25,  and  26  ;  Grey^s  Debates  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's 
Diary.  Narcissus  is  unusually  angry.  He  calls  the  bill  **  a  perfect  trick  of  the  fanatics  to 
turn  out  the  Bishops  and  most  of  the  Church  of  England  Clergy."  In  a  Whig  pasquinade 
entitled,  "  A  Speech  intended  to  have  been  spoken  on  the  Triennial  Bill,  on  Jan.  28,* 
1692-3,  the  King  is  said  to  have  '*  browbeaten  the  Abjuration  Bill.'* 

t  Lords'  Journals,  May  i,  1690.  This  Bill  is  among  the  Archives  of  the  House  of 
Lords.  Burnet  confounds  it  with  the  bill  which  the  Commons  had  rejected  in  the  preceding 
Week.  Ralph,  who  saw  that  Burnet  had  committed  a  blunder,  but  did  not  see  what  the 
blunder  was,  has,  in  trying  to  correct  it,  added  several  blunders  of  bis  own  ;  thi  Oxford 
•ditor  of  Burnet  has  been  UHslsd  by  Ralph, 


446 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANi), 


eminently  zealous  for  the  Revolution  spoke  against  the  proposed 
test.  Lord  Wharton,  a  Puritan  who  had  fought  for  the  Long 
Parliament,  said,  with  amusing  simplicity,  that  he  was  a  very  old 
man,  that  he  had  lived  through  troubled  times,  that  he  had 
taken  a  great  many  oaths  in  his  day,  and  that  he  was  afraid  that 
he  had  not  kept  them  all.  He  prayed  that  the  sin  might  not  be 
laid  to  his  charge  ;  and  he  declared  that  he  could  not  consent 
to  lay  any  more  snares  for  his  own  soul  and  for  the  souls  of  his 
neighbors.  The  Earl  of  Macclesfield,  the  captain  of  the  Eng- 
lish volunteers  who  had  accompanied  William  from  Helvoetsluys 
to  Torbay,  declared  that  he  was  much  in  the  same  case  with 
Lord  Wharton.  Marlborough  supported  the  bill.  He  wondered, 
he  said,  that  it  should  be  opposed  by  Macclesfield,  who  had 
borne  so  prominent  a  part  in  the  Revolution.  Macclesfield, 
irritated  by  the  charge  of  inconsistency,  retorted  with  terrible 
severiJ:y :  "  The  noble  Earl,"  he  said,  "  exaggerates  the  share 
which  I  had  in  the  deliverance  of  our  country.  I  was  ready,  in- 
deed, and  always  shall  be  ready,  to  venture  my  life  in  defence 
of  her  laws  and  liberties.  But  there  are  lengths  to  which,  even 
for  the  sake  of  her  laws  and  liberties,  I  could  never  go.  I  only 
rebelled  against  a  bad  King ;  there  were  those  who  did  much 
more.'^  Marlborough,  though  not  easily  discomposed,  could 
not  but  feel  the  edge  of  this  sarcasm  :  William  looked  displeased ; 
and  the  aspect  of  the  whole  House  was  troubled  and  gloomy. 
It  was  resolved  by  fifty-one  votes  to  forty  that  the  bill  should 
be  committed  ;  and  it  was  committed,  but  never  reported.  After 
many  hard  struggles  between  the  Whigs  headed  by  Shrewsbury 
and  the  Tories  headed  by  Caermarthen,  it  was  so  much  muti- 
lated that  it  retained  little  more  than  its  name,  and  did  not 
seem  to  those  who  had  introduced  it  to  be  worth  any  further 
contest.* 

The  discomfiture  of  the  Whigs  was  completed  by  a  communi- 
cation from  the  King.  Caermarthen  appeared  in  the  House  of 
Lords  bearing  in  his  hand  a  parchment  signed  by  William.  It 
was  an  Act  of  Grace  for  political  offences. 

Between  an  Act  of  Grace  originating  with  the  Sovereign  and 
an  Act  of  Indemnity  originating  with  the  Estates  of  the  Realm 
there  are  some  remarkable  distinctions.  An  Act  of  Indemnity 
passes  through  all  the  stages  through  which  other  laws  pass,  and 
may,  during  its  progress,  be  amended  by  either  House.  An  Act 
of  Grace  is  received  with  peculiar  marks  of  respect,  is  read  only 

*  Lords*  Journals.  May,  2  and  3,  1690  ;  Van  Citters,  May  2  ;  Narcissus  Luttreir« 
Diary  ;  Burnet,  ii,  44  ;  and  Lord  Dartmouth's  note.  The  changes  made  by  the  Committet 
iMy  Dtt  setn  on  th«  biU  in  tht  archive«  of  the  Hoose  ol  Lords. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


447 


once  by  the  Lords  and  once  by  the  Commons,  and  must  be 
either  rejected  altogether  or  accepted  as  it  stands.*  William 
had  not  ventured  to  submit  such  an  Act  to  the  preceding  Parlia- 
ment.  But  in  the  new  Parliament  he  was  certain  of  a  majority. 
The  minority  gave  no  trouble.  The  stubborn  spirit  which  had, 
during  two  sessions,  obstructed  the  progress  of  the  Bill  of  In- 
demnity had  been  at  length  broken  by  defeats  and  humiliations. 
Both  Houses  stood  up  uncovered  while  the  Act  of  Grace  was 
read,  and  gave  their  sanction  to  it  without  one  dissentient 
voice. 

There  would  not  have  been  this  unanimity  had  not  a  few 
great  criminals  been  excluded  from  the  benefits  of  the  amnesty. 
Foremost  among  them  stood  the  surviving  members  of  the  High 
Court  of  Justice  which  had  sate  on  Charles  the  First.  With  these 
ancient  men  were  joined  the  two  nameless  executioners  who 
had  done  their  office,  with  masked  faces,  on  the  scaffold  before 
the  Banqueting  House.  None  knew  who  they  were,  or  of  what 
rank.  It  was  probable  that  they  had  been  long  dead.  Yet  it 
was  thought  necessary  to  declare  that,  if  even  now,  after  the 
lapse  of  forty- one  years,  they  should  be  discovered,  they  would 
still  be  liable  to  the  punishment  of  their  great  crime.  Perhaps 
it  would  hardly  have  been  thought  necessary  to  mention  these 
men,  if  the  animosities  of  the  preceding  generation  had  not  been 
rekindled  by  the  recent  appearance  of  Ludlow  in  England. 
About  thirty  of  the  agents  of  the  tyranny  of  James  were  left  to 
the  law.  With  these  exceptions,  all  political  offences,  committed 
before  the  day  on  which  the  royal  signature  was  affixed  to  the 
Act,  were  covered  with  a  general  oblivion. f  Even  the  crim- 
inals who  were  by  name  excluded  had  little  to  fear.  Many  of 
them  were  in  foreign  countries  ;  and  those  who  were  in  England 
were  well  assured  that,  unless  they  committed  some  new  fault, 
they  would  not  be  molested. 

The  Act  of  Grace  the  nation  owed  to  William  alone  ;  and  it 
is  one  of  his  noblest  and  purest  titles  to  renown.  From  the 
commencement  of  the  civil  troubles  of  the  seventeenth  century 
down  to  the  Revolution,  every  victory  gained  by  either  party 
had  been  followed  by  a  sanguinary  proscription.  When  the 
Roundheads  triumphed  over  the  Cavaliers,  when  the  Cavaliers 
triumphed  over  the  Roundheads,  when  the  fable  of  the  Popish 
plot  gave  the  ascendency  to  the  Whigs,  when  the  detection  of 
the  Rye  House  Plot  transferred  the  ascendancy  to  the  Tories, 
blood,  and  more  blood,  and  still  more  blood,  had  flowed.  Every 


*  These  distinctions  were  much  discussed  at  the  time.  Van  Cittera,  May  ao-joj  i( 
t  Stat.?  W.  &  M-  sess.  i,  9.  i©. 


448 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


great  explosion  and  every  great  recoil  of  public  feeling  had 

been  accompanied  by  severities  which,  at  the  time,  the  predomi- 
nant faction  loudly  applauded,  but  which  on  a  calm  review, 
history  and  posterity  have  condemned.  No  wise  and  humane 
man,  whatever  may  be  his  political  opinions,  now  mentions 
without  reprehension  the  death  either  of  Laud  or  of  Anne, 
either  of  Stafford  or  of  Russell.  Of  the  alternate  butcheries 
the  last  and  the  worst  is  that  which  is  inseparably  associated 
with  the  name  of  James  and  Jeffreys.  But  it  assuredly  would 
Bot  have  been  the  last,  perhaps  it  might  not  have  been  the 
worst,  if  William  had  not  had  the  virtue  and  the  firmness  res- 
olutely to  withstand  the  importunity  of  his  most  zealous  ad- 
herents. These  men  were  bent  on  exacting  a  terrible  retribution 
for  all  they  had  undergone  during  seven  disastrous  years.  The 
scaffold  of  Sidney,  the  gibbet  of  Cornish,  the  stake  at  which 
Elizabeth  Gaunt  had  perished  in  the  flames  for  the  crime  o{ 
harboring  a  fugitive,  the  porches  of  the  Somersetshire  churches 
surmounted  by  the  skulls  and  quarters  of  murdered  peasants, 
the  holds  of  those  Jamaica  ships  from  which  every  day  the 
carcass  of  some  prisoner  dead  of  thirst  and  foul  air  had  been 
flung  to  the  sharks,  all  these  things  were  fresh  in  the  memory 
of  the  party  which  the  Revolution  had  made,  for  a  time,  domi- 
nant in  the  State.  Some  chiefs  of  that  party  had  redeemed 
their  necks  by  paying  heavy  ransom.  Others  had  languished 
long  in  Newgate.  Others  had  starved  and  shivered,  winter 
after  winter,  in  the  garrets  of  Amsterdam.  It  was  natural  that 
in  the  day  of  their  power  and  prosperity  they  should  wish  to 
inflict  some  part  of  what  they  had  suffered.  During  a  whole 
year  they  pursued  their  scheme  of  revenge.  They  succeeded  in 
defeating  Indemnity  Bill  after  Indemnity  Bill.  Nothing  stood 
between  them  and  their  victims,  but  William's  immutable  res- 
olution that  the  glory  of  the  great  deliverance  which  he  had 
wrought  should  not  be  sullied  by  cruelty.  His  clemency  was 
peculiar  to  himself.  It  was  not  the  clemency  of  an  ostenta- 
tious man,  or  of  a  sentimental  man,  or  of  an  easy  tempered 
man.  It  was  cold,  unconciliating,  inflexible.  It  produced  no 
fine  stage  effects.  It  drew  on  him  the  savage  invectives  of 
those  whose  malevolent  passions  he  refused  to  satisfy.  It  won 
for  him  no  gratitude  from  those  who  owed  to  him  fortune, 
liberty,  and  life.  While  the  violent  Whigs  railed  at  his  lenity, 
the  agents  of  the  fallen  tyranny,  as  soon  as  they  found  them- 
selves safe,  instead  of  acknowledging  their  obligations  to  him, 
reproached  him  in  insulting  language  with  the  mercy  which  he 
had  extended  to  theni.    His  Act  of  Grace,  thejr  s^ic^  had  cqm 


.WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


440 


pletely  refuted  his  Declaration.  Was  it  possible  to  believe 
that,  if  there  had  been  any  truth  in  the  charges  which  he  had 
orought  against  the  late  government,  he  would  have  granted 
impunity  to  the  guilty  ?  It  was  now  acknowledged  by  himself, 
under  his  own  hand,  that  the  stories  by  which  he  and  his 
friends  had  deluded  the  nation  and  driven  away  the  royal  family 
were  mere  calumnies  devised  to  serve  a  turn.  The  turn  had 
been  served  ;  and  the  accusations  by  which  he  had  inflamed  the 
public  mind  to  madness  were  coolly  withdrawn."^  But  none  of 
these  things  moved  him.  He  had  done  well.  He  had  risked 
his  popularity  with  men  who  had  been  his  warmest  admirers,  in 
order  to  give  repose  and  security  to  men  by  whom  his  name 
was  never  mentioned  without  a  curse.  Nor  had  he  conferred  a 
less  benefit  on  those  whom  he  had  disappointed  of  their  revenge 
than  on  those  whom  he  had  protected.  If  he  had  saved  one 
faction  fron^  a  proscription,  he  had  saved  the  other  from  the 
reaction  which  such  a  proscription  would  inevitably  have  pro- 
duced. If  his  people  did  not  justly  appreciate  his  policy,  so 
much  the  worse  for  them.  He  had  discharged  his  duty  by 
them.    He  feared  no  obloquy  ;  and  he  wanted  no  thanks. 

On  the  twentieth  of  May  the  Act  of  Grace  was  passed. 
The  King  then  informed  the  Houses  that  his  visit  to  Ireland 
could  no  longer  be  delayed,  that  he  had  therefore  determined 
to  prorogue  them,  and  that,  unless  some  unexpected  emergency 
made  their  advice  and  assistance  necessary  to  him,  he  should 
not  call  them  again  from  their  homes  till  the  next  winter. 
"  Then,"  he  said,  "  I  hope,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  we  shall 
have  a  happy  meeting." 

The  Parliament  had  passed  an  Act  providing  that,  when- 
ever he  should  go  out  of  England,  it  should  be  lawful  for  Mary 
to  administer  the  government  of  the  kingdom  in  his  name  and 
her  own.  It  was  added  that  he  should,  nevertheless,  during 
his  absence,  retain  all  of  his  authority.  Some  objections  were 
made  to  this  arrangement.  Here,  it  was  said,  were  two 
supreme  powers  in  one  State.  A  publk:  functionary  might 
receive  diametrically  opposite  orders  from  the  King  and  the 
Queen,  and  might  not  know  which  to  obey.  The  objection  was, 
beyond  all  doubt,  speculatively  just ;  but  there  was  such  per- 
fect confidence  and  affection  between  the  royal  pair  that  no 
practical  inconvenience  was  to  be  apprehended. f 

As  far  as  Ireland  was  concerned,  the  prospects  of  William 

■*  Roger  North  was  one  ©f  the  many  malecontents  who  were  never  tired  of  harping  en 
this  string. 

1  a  W,  &  M.       I*  c  6  (  Groy's  Debates.   April  i»  S>  ^  7* 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANIX 


were  much  more  cheering  than  they  had  been  a  few  montI\8 
earlier.  The  activity  with  which  he  had  personally  urged  for- 
ward the  preparations  for  the  next  campaign  had  produced  an 
extraordinary  effect.  The  nerves  of  the  government  were  new 
strung.  In  every  department  of  the  military  administration 
the  influence  of  a  vigorous  mind  was  perceptible.  Abundant 
supplies  of  food,  clothing,  and  medicine,  very  different  in 
quality  from  those  which  Shales  had  furnished,  were  sent  across 
Saint  George's  Channel.  A  thousand  baggage  wagons  had 
been  made  or  collected  with  great  expedition  ;  and,  during 
some  weeks,  the  road  between  London  and  Chester  was  covered 
with  them.  Great  numbers  of  recruits  were  sent  to  fill  the 
chasms  which  pestilence  had  made  in  the  English  ranks.  Fresh 
regiments  from  Scotland,  Cheshire,  Lancashire,  and  Cumber- 
land had  landed  in  the  Bay  of  Belfast.  The  uniforms  and  arms 
of  the  new  comers  clearly  indicated  the  potent  influence  of  the 
master's  eye.  With  the  British  battalions  were  interspersed 
several  hardy  bands  of  German  and  Scandinavian  mercenaries. 
Before  the  end  of  May  the  English  force  in  Ulster  amounted 
to  thirty  thousand  fighting  men.  A  few  more  troops  and  an 
immense  quantity  of  military  stores  were  on  Joard  of  a  fleet 
which  lay  in  the  estuary  of  the  Dee,  and  which  was  ready  to 
weigh  anchor  as  soon  as  the  King  was  on  board.* 

James  ought  to  have  made  an  equally  good  use  of  the  time 
during  which  his  army  had  b^en  in  winter  quarters.  Strict  dis- 
cipline and  regular  drilling  might,  in  the  interval  between 
November  and  May,  have  turned  the  athletic  and  enthusiastic 
peasants  who  were  assembled  under  his  standard  into 
good  soldiers.  But  the  opportunity  was  lost.  The  Court 
of  Dublin  was,  during  that  season  of  inaction,  busied  with 
dice  and  claret,  love  letters  and  challenges.  The  aspect 
of  the  capital  was  indeed  not  very  brilliant.  The  whole 
number  of  coaches  which  could  be  mustered  there,  those 
of  the  King  and  of  the  French  legation  included,  did  not 
amount  to  forty.f  But  though  there  was  little  splendor 
there  was  much  dissoluteness.  Grave  Roman  Catholics 
shook  their  heads  and  said  that  the  Castle  did  not  look  like 
the  palace  of  a  King  who  gloried  in  being  the  champion  of  the 
Church. t    The  military  administration  was  as  deplorable  as 

♦  Story^s  Impartial  History  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary.       fAvaux,  Jan.  15-25.  1690. 

t  Macariae  Excidium  This  most  curious  work  has  been  recently  edited  with  great  care 
and  diligence  by  Mr.  O'Callaghan.  I  owe  so  much  to  his  learning  and  industry  that  I  must 
readily  excuse  the  national  partialty  which  sometimes,  I  cannot  but  think,  perverts  his 
judgment.  When  I  quote  the  Macariae  Excidium,  I  alway  quote  the  Latin  text.  The  Eng- 
lish version  is,  I  am  convinced,  merely  a  translation  from  the  Latin,  and  a  very  careless  aa4 
Knj^rfect  translation. 


William  anU  mary. 


45 1 


ever.  The  cavalry  indeed  was,  by  the  exertions  of  some  gal- 
lant officers,  kept  in  a  high  state  of  efficiency.  But  a  regiment 
of  infantry  differed  in  nothing  but  name  from  a  large  gang  of 
Rapparees.  Indeed  a  gang  of  Rapparees  gave  less  annoyance 
to  peaceable  citizens,  and  more  annoyance  to  the  enemy,  than 
a  regiment  of  infantry.  Avaux  strongly  represented,  in  a  me- 
morial which  he  delivered  to  James,  the  abuses  which  made 
the  Irish  foot  a  curse  and  a  scandal  to  Ireland.  Whole  com- 
panies, said  the  ambassador,  quit  their  colors  on  the  line  of 
march  and  wander  to  right  and  left  pillaging  and  destroying  : 
the  soldier  takes  no  care  of  his  arms  :  the  captain  never 
troubles  himself  to  ascertain  whether  the  arms  are  in  good 
order :  the  consequence  is  that  one  man  in  every  three  has  lost 
his  musket,  and  that  another  man  in  every  three  has  a  musket 
that  will  not  go  off.  Avaux  adjured  the  King  to  prohibit  ma- 
rauding, to  give  orders  that  the  troops  should  be  regularly  ex- 
ercised, and  to  punish  every  officer  who  suffered  his  men  to 
neglect  their  weapons  and  accoutrements.  If  these  things  were 
done,  His  Majesty  might  hope  to  have,  in  the  approaching 
spring,  an  army  with  which  the  enemy  would  be  unable  to  con- 
fend.  This  was  good  advice  :  but  James  was  so  far  from  tak- 
ing it  that  he  would  hardly  listen  to  it  with  patience.  Before 
he  heard  eight  lines  read  he  flew  into  a  passion  and  accused 
the  ambassador  of  exaggeration.  "  This  paper.  Sir,"  said  Avaux, 
**  is  not  written  to  be  published.  It  is  meant  solely  for  Your 
Majesty's  information  ;  and,  in  a  paper  meant  solely  for  Your 
Majesty's  information,  flattery  and  disguise  would  be  out  of 
place  :  but  I  will  not  persist  in  reading  what  is  so  disagree- 
able.'* "Go  on,"  said  James  very  angrily;  "I  will  hear  th9 
whole."  He  gradually  became  calmer,  took  the  memorial,  and 
promised  to  adopt  some  of  the  suggestions  which  it  contained. 
But  his  promise  was  soon  forgotten.'* 

His  financial  administration  was  of  a  piece  with  his  military 
administration.  His  one  fiscal  resource  was  robbery,  direct  or 
indirect.  Every  Protestant  who  had  remained  in  any  part  of 
the  three  southern  provinces  of  Ireland  was  robbed  directly,  by 
the  simple  process  of  taking  money  out  of  his  strong  box, 
drink  out  of  his  cellars,  fuel  from  his  turf  stack,  and  clothes 
from  his  wardrobe.  He  was  robbed  indirectly  by  a  new  issue 
of  counters,  smaller  in  size  and  baser  in  material  than  any 
which  had  yet  borne  the  image  and  superscription  of  James. 
Even  brass  had  begun  to  be  scarce  at  Dublin ;  and  it  was 


*  Avaux^  Nor.  i4*24«  i6S9» 


HISTORY  OP  ENGLAND. 


necessary  to  ask  assistance  from  Lewis,  who  charitably  be* 
stowed  on  his  ally  an  old  cracked  piece  of  cannon,  to  be  coined 
into  crowns  and  shillings."*^ 

But  the  French  king  had  determined  to  send  over  succors 
of  a  very  different  kind.  He  proposed  to  take  into  his  own 
service,  and  to  form  by  the  best  discipline  then  known  in  the 
world,  four  Irish  regiments.  They  were  to  be  commanded  by 
Macarthy,  who  had  been  severely  wounded  and  taken  prisoner 
at  Newton  Butler.  His  wounds  had  been  healed  ;  and  he  had 
regained  his  liberty  by  violating  his  parole.  This  disgraceful 
breach  of  faith  he  had  made  more  disgraceful  by  paltry  tricks 
and  sophistical  excuses  which  would  have  become  a  Jesuit  better 
than  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier.  Lewis  was  willing  that  the 
Irish  regiments  should  be  sent  to  him  in  rags  and  unarmed, 
and  insisted  only  that  the  men  should  be  stout,  and  that  the 
officers  should  not  be  bankrupt  traders,  and  discarded  lacqueys, 
but,  if  possible,  men  of  good  family,  who  had  seen  service.  In 
return  for  these  troops,  who  were  in  number  not  quite  four 
thousand,  he  undertook  to  send  to  Ireland  between  seven  and 
eight  thousand  excellent  French  infantry,  who  were  likely  in  a 
day  of  battle  to  be  of  more  use  than  all  the  kernes  of  Leinster, 
Munster,  and  Connaught  together.f 

One  great  error  he  committed.  The  army  which  he  was 
sending  to  assist  James,  though  small  indeed  when  compared 
with  the  army  of  Flanders  or  with  the  army  of  the  Rhine,  was 
destined  for  a  service  on  which  the  fate  of  Europe  might  de- 
pend, and  ought  therefore  to  have  been  commanded  by  a  gen- 
eral of  eminent  abilities.  There  was  no  want  of  such  generals 
in  the  French  service.  But  James  and  his  Queen  begged  hard 
for  Lauzun,  and  carried  this  point  against  the  strong  represen- 
tations of  Avaux,  against  the  advice  of  Louvois,  and  against 
the  judgment  of  Lewis  himself. 

When  Lauzun  went  to  the  cabinet  of  Louvois  to  receive  in- 


*  Louvois  writes  to  Avaux,— 7^^—^-^  1689-90  ;  **  Comme  le  Roy  a  veu  par  vo$  lettres 
Jan.  5>  . 

que  le  Roy  d' Angleterre  cralgtioit  de  manauer  de  cuivre  pour  faire  de  la  monnoye,  Sa  Ma- 
jest^  a  donne  ordre  que  I'on  mist  sur  lee  bastiment  que  portera  cette  lettre  une  pi^ce  de 
canon  du  calibre  de  deux  qui  est  eventee,  de  laquelle  ceux  qui  travaillent  k  la  monnoye  du 
Roy  d'Angleterre  pourront  se  servir  pour  continuer  k  faire  de  la  monnoye." 

Louvois  to  Avaux,  Nov.  i-ii,  1689.  The  force  sent  by  Lewis  to  Ireland  appears  by 
the  lists  at  the  French  War  Office  to  have  amounted  to  seven  thousand  two  hundred  and 
ninety-one  men  of  all  ranks.  At  the  French  War  Office  is  a  letter  from  M«irshal  d'Estr^es 
who  saw  the  four  Irish  regiments  soon  after  they  had  landed  at  Brest.  He  describes  them 
as  "  mal  chauss^s,  mal  vetus,  et  n'ayant  point  d^uniforme  dans  leurs  habits,  si  ce  n'es  q'uils 
sont  tons  fort  mauvais."  A  very  exact  account  of  Macarthy*s  breach  of  parole  will  be 
found  in  Mr.  O'Callaghan's  History  of  the  Irish  Brigades.  I  am  sorry  that  a  writer  t« 
whom  I  owe  so  much  should  try  to  vindicate  conduct  which,  as  described  by  himself,  was  ia 
the  highest  degree  dishonorable. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


453 


Stnictions,  the  wise  minister  held  language  which  showed  how 
little  confidence  he  felt  in  the  vain  and  eccentric  knight  errant, 
"  Do  not,  for  God's  sake,  suffer  yourself  to  be  hurried  away  by 
your  desire  of  fighting.  Put  all  your  glory  in  tiring  the  Eng- 
lish out ;  and,  above  all  things,  maintain  strict  discipline."* 

Not  only  wa^s  the  appointment  of  Lauzun  in  itself  a  bad 
appointment :  but,  in  order  that  one  man  might  fill  a  post  for 
which  he  was  unfit,  it  was  necessary  to  remove  two  men  from 
posts  for  which  they  were  eminently  fit.  Immoral  and  hard- 
hearted as  Rosen  and  Avaux  were,  Rosen  was  a  skilful  captain, 
and  Avaux  was  a  skilful  politician.  Though  it  is  not  probable 
that  they  would  have  been  able  to  avert  the  doom  of  Ireland,  it 
is  probable  that  they  might  have  been  able  to  protract  the  con- 
test; and  it  was  evidently  for  the  interest  of  France  that  the 
contest  should  be  protracted.  But  it  would  have  been  an  affront 
to  the  old  general  to  put  him  under  the  orders  of  Lauzun ;  and 
between  the  ambassador  and  Lauzun  there  was  such  an  enmity 
that  they  could  not  be  expected  to  act  cordially  together.  Both 
Rosen  and  Avaux,  therefore,  were,  with  many  soothing  assur- 
ances of  royal  approbation  and  favor,  recalled  to  France.  They 
sailed  from  Cork  early  in  the  spring  by  the  fleet  which  had  con* 
veyed  Lauzun  thither.f  Lauzun  had  no  sooner  landed  than 
he  found  that,  though  he  had  been  long  expected,  nothing  had 
been  prepared  for  his  reception.  No  lodgings  had  been  pro- 
vided for  his  men,  no  place  of  security  for  his  stores,  no  horses, 
no  carriages,  t  His  troops  had  to  undergo  the  hardships  of  a 
long  march  through  a  desert  before  they  arrived  at  Dublin* 
At  Dublin,  indeed,  they  found  tolerable  accommodation.  They 
were  billeted  on  Protestants,  lived  at  free  quarters,  had  plenty 
of  bread,  and  threepence  a  day.  Lauzun  was  appointed  Com* 
mander-in-Chief  of  the  Irish  army  and  took  up  his  residence 
in  the  Castle. §  His  salary  was  the  same  with  that  of  the 
Lord  Lieutenant,  eight  thousand  Jacobuses,  equivalent  to  ten 
thousand  pounds  sterling  a  year.  This  sum  James  offered  to 
pay,  not  in  the  brass  which  bore  his  own  effigy,  but  in  French 
gold.  But  Lauzun,  among  whose  faults  avarice  had  no  place,  re- 
fused to  fill  his  own  coffers  from  an  almost  empty  treasury.! 

♦  Lauzun  to  Louvois,  and  June  16-26,  1690^  at  tbe  French  War  Ofite* 

t  See  the  later  letters  oi  Avaux.  ^ 

t  Avaux  to  Louvuis,  March  14-24,  1690  5  Lauion  to  Loorois,  ^^^^^ 

S  Story's  Impartial  History  ;  Lauiun  to  Louvois,  May  ao-30, 1690* 

lU««n.oLouvois.^5i.6^ 


454 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


On  him  and  on  the  Frenchmen  who  accompanied  him  the 
misery  of  the  Irish  people  and  the  imbeciUty  of  the  Irish  ad- 
ministration produced  an  effect  which  they  found  it  difficult  to 
describe.  Lauzun  wrote  to  Louvois  that  the  Court  and  the 
whole  kingdom  were  in  a  state  not  to  be  imagined  by  a  person 
who  had  always  lived  in  happier  countries.  It  was,  he  said,  a 
chaos,  such  as  he  had  read  of  in  the  book  of  Genesis.  The 
wholel)usiness  of  all  the  public  functionaries  was  to  quarrel 
with  each  other,  and  to  plunder  the  government  and  the  people. 
After  he  had  been  about  a  month  at  the  Castle,  he  declared 
that  he  would  not  go  through  such  another  month  for  all  the 
world.  His  ablest  officers  confirmed  his  testimony.*  One  of 
them,  indeed,  was  so  unjust  as  to  represent  the  people  of 
Ireland,  not  merely  ignorant  and  idle,  which  they  were,  but 
as  hopelessly  stupid  apd  unfeeling,  which  they  assuredly  were 
not.  The  English  policy,  he  said,  had  so  completely  brutalized 
them  that  they  could  hardly  be  called  human  beings.  They 
were  insensible  to  praise  s^nd  blame,  to  promises  and  threats. 
And  yet  it  was  pity  of  th^m :  for  they  were  physically  the 
finest  race  of  men  in  the  world.f 

By  this  time  Schomberg  had  opened  the  campaign  auspi- 
ciously. He  had  with  little  difficulty  taken  Charlemont,  the 
last  important  fastness  which  the  Irish  occupied  in  Ulster.  But 
the  great  work  of  reconquering  the  three  southern  provinces  of 
the  island  he  deferred  till  William  should  arrive.  William 
meanwhile  was  busied  in  making  arrangements  for  the  govern- 
ment and  defence  of  England  during  his  absence.  He  well 
knew  that  the  Jacobites  were  on  the  alert.  They  had  not  till 
very  lately  been  an  united  and  organized  faction.  There  had 
been,  to  use  Melfort's  phrase,  numerous  gangs,  which  were  all 
in  communication  with  James  at  Dublin  Castle,  or  with  Mary 
of  Modena  at  Saint  Germains,  but  which  had  no  connection 
with  each  other  and  were  unwilling  to  trust  each  other.f  But 
since  it  had  been  known  that  the  usurper  was  about  to  cross 
the  sea,  and  that  his  scepter  would  be  left  in  a  female  hand, 
these  gangs  had  been  drawing  close  together,  and  had  begun  to 

*  Lauzun  to  Louvois,  April  2-12,  May  10-20,  1690.  La  Hoguette,  who  held  the  rank  of 
Marechal  de  Camp,  wrote  to  Louvois  to  the  same  effect  about  the  same  time. 

t  **La  politicjue  des  Anglois  a  ^t^  de  tenir  ces  peuples  cy  comme  des  esclaves,  et  si  bas 
/u'il  ne  leur  estoit  pas  permis  d'apprendre  k  lire  et  i  ecrire.  Cela  les  a  rendu  si  bestes 
qu'ils  n'ont  presque  point  d'humanite.  Rien  ne  les  esmeut.  lis  sont  peu  sensibles  k 
I'honneur;  et  les  menaces  ne  les  estonnent  point.  L'interest  meme  ne  les  pent  engager  au 
travail.    Ce  sont  pourtant  les  gens  du  monde  les  mieux  faits." — Desgrigny  to  Louvois, 


June  D, 

t  See  Melfort's  Letters  to  Tames  written  in  October  1689.  They  are  among  the  KairM 
Papers,  and  were  printed  by  Macpherson* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


455 


form  one  extensive  confederacy.    Clarendon,  who  had  refused 

the  oaths,  and  Aylesbury,  who  had  dishonestly  taken  them,  were 
among  the  chief  traitors.  Dartmouth,  though  he  had  sworn 
allegiance  to  the  sovereigns  who  were  in  possession,  was  one  of 
their  most  active  enemies,  and  undertook  what  may  be  called 
the  maritime  department  of  the  plot.  His  mind  was  constantly 
occupied  by  schemes,  disgraceful  to  an  English  seaman,  for  the 
destruction  of  the  English  fleets  and  arsenals.  He  was  in  close 
communication  with  some  naval  officers,  who,  though  they  served 
the  new  government,  served  it  sullenly  and  with  half  a  heart  ; 
and  he  flattered  himself  that  by  promising  these  men  ample 
rewards,  and  by  artfully  inflaming  the  jealous  animosity  with 
which  they  regarded  the  Dutch  flag,  he  should  prevail  on  them 
to  desert  and  to  carry  their  ships  into  some  French  or  Irish 
port.*  T 
The  conduct  of  Penn  was  scarcely  less  scandalous.  He  was 
a  zealous  and  busy  Jacobite  ;  and  his  new  way  of  life  was  even 
more  unfavorable  than  his  late  way  of  life  had  been  to  moral 
purity.  It  was  hardly  possible  to  be  at  once  a  consistent  Quaker 
and  a  courtier :  but  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  be  at  once  a 
consistent  Quaker  and  a  conspirator.  It  is  melancholy  to 
relate  that  Penn,  while  professing  to  consider  even  defensive 
war.as  sinful,  did  everything  in  his  power  to  bring  a  foreign 
army  into  the  heart  of  his  own  country.  He  wrote  to  inform 
James  that  the  adherents  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  dreaded  noth- 
ing so  much  as  an  appeal  to  the  sword,  and  that,  if  England 
were  now  invaded  from  France  or  from  Ireland,  the  number  of 
Royalists  would  appear  to  be  greater  than  ever.  Avaux  thought 
this  letter  so  important,  that  he  sent  a  translation  qi  it  to  Lewis.f 
A  good  effect,  the  shrewd  ambassador  wrote,  had  been  produced, 
by  this  and  similar  communications,  on  the  mind  of  King  James. 
His  Majesty  was  at  last  convinced  that  he  could  recover  his 
dominions  only  sword  in  hand.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  it 
should  have  been  reserved  for  the  great  preacher  of  peace  to 


*  Life  of  James,  li.  443,  450  ;  and  Trials  of  Ashton  and  Preston. 

t  Avaux  wrote  thus  to  Lewis  on  the  5th  of  June  1689  •  *'  ^  nous  est  venu  des  nou- 
velles  assez  considerables  d'Angleterre  et  d'Ecosse.  Je  me  donne  I'honneur  d*en  envoyer 
des  memoires  a  vostre  Majesty,  tels  que  je  les  ay  receus  du  Roy  de  la  Grande  Bretagne.  Le 
commencement  des  nouvelles  dattees  d'Angleterre  est  la  copie  d*une  lettre  de  M.  Pen,  que 
i'ay  veue  en  original."  The  Memoire  des  Nouvelles  d'Angleterre  et  d'Ecosse,  which  was 
sent  with  this  despatch,  begins  with  the  following  sentences,  which  must  therefore  have 
been  part  of  Penn's  letter  :  **  Le  Prince  d'Orange  commence  d'estre  fort  d^goutt^  de 
riiumeur  des  Anglois  ;  et  la  face  des  choses  change  bien  viste,  selon  la  nature  des  msu- 
laires  ;  et  sa  sant^  est  fort  mauvaise.  II  y  a  un  nuage  qui  commence  k  se  former  au  nord 
des  deux  royaumes,  oill  le  Roy  a  beaucoup  d'amis,  ce  qui  donne  beaucoup  d'lnquietude  aux 
principaux  amis  du  Prince  d'Orange,  qui,estant  riches,  commencent  k  estre  persuadez  que 
ce  sera  I'esp^e  qui  deeidera  de  leur  sort,  ce  qu'ils  ont  tant  tach^  d'^viter.  lis  appr^hendent 
Une  invasion  d'Irlando  et  de  France    et  en  ce  caa  le  Roy  aura  plu?  d'amis  que  jamais.** 


4S6 


HISTORY  OP  ENGLAND. 


produce  this  conviction  in  the  mind  of  the  old  tyrant.*  Penn*s 

proceedings  had  not  escaped  the  observation  of  the  government, 
Warrants  had  been  out  against  him  ;  and  he  had  been  taken 
into  custody ;  but  the  evidence  against  him  had  not  been  such 
as  would  support  a  charge  of  high  treason  :  he  had,  as,  with 
all  his  faults,  he  deserved  to  have,  many  friends  in  every  party : 
he  therefore  soon  regained  his  liberty,  and  returned  to  his 
plots.t 

But  the  chief  conspirator  was  Richard  Graham,  Viscount 
Preston,  who  had,  in  the  late  reign,  been  Secretary  of  State. 
Though  a  peer  in  Scotland,  he  was  only  a  baronet  in  England. 
He  had,  indeed,  received  from  Saint  Germains  an  English 
patent  of  nobility,  but  the  patent  bore  a  date  posterior  to  that 
flight  which  the  Convention  had  pronounced  an  abdication. 
The  Lords  had,  therefore,  not  only  refused  to  admit  him  to  a 
share  of  their  privileges,  but  had  sent  him  to  prison  for  pre- 
suming to  cell  himself  one  of  their  order.  He  had,  however,  by 
humbling  himself  and  by  withdrawing  his  claim,  obtained  his 
liberty. t  Though  the  submissive  language  which  he  had  con- 
descended to  use  on  this  occasion  did  not  indicate  a  spirit  pre- 
pared for  martyrdom,  he  was  regarded  by  his  party,  and  by 
the  world  in  general,  as  a  man  of  courage  and  honor.  He 
still  retained  the  seals  of  his  office,  and  was  still  considered 
by  the  adherents  of  indefeasible  hereditary  right  as  the  real 
Secretary  of  State,  He  was  in  high  favor  with  Lewis,  at 
whose  court  he  had  formerly  resided,  and  had,  since  the  Revo- 
lution, been  entrusted  by  the  French  Government  with  con- 
siderable sums  of  money  for  political  purposes. § 

While  Prgston  was  consulting  in  the  capital  with  the  other 
heads  of  the  faction,  the  rustic  Jacobites  were  laying  in  arms, 
holding  musters,  and  forming  themselves  into  companies, 
troops,  and  regiments.  There  were  alarming  symptoms  in 
Worcestershire.  In  Lancashire  many  gentlemen  had  received 
commissions  signed  by  James,  called  themselves  colonels  and 
captains,  and  made  out  long  lists  of  non-commissioned  officers 
and  privates.  Letters  from  Yorkshire  brought  news  that  large 
bodies  of  men,  who  seemed  to  have  met  for  no  good  purpose, 

■*  Le  bon  effet,  Sire,  que  ces  lettres  d'Escosseetd'Angleterre  ont  produit,  est  qu'elles 
ont  enfin  persuadd  le  Roy  d'Angleterre  qu'il  ne  recouvrera  ses  estats  que  les  armes  k  la 
main  ;  et  ce  n'est  pas  peu  de  I'en  avoir  convaincu." 

1  Van  Citters  to  the  States  General,  March  i-ii,  1689.  Van  Citters  calls  Penn  **  den 
bekenden  Archquaker.'. 

t  See  his  trial  in  the  Collection  of  State  Trials,  and  the  Lords'  Journals  of  Nov.  11.  12 
and  27,  1689. 

§  One  remittance  of  two  thousand  pistoles  is  mentioned  in  a  letter  of  Crolssy  to  Avaux, 
Feb.  16-26,  1689.  James,  in  a  letter  dated  Tan.  26^  1689,  directs  Preston  to  consider  himself 
as  still  Secretary,  notwithstanding  Melfort  s  apjpointmeui* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY, 


45? 


had  been  seen  on  the  moors  near  Knaresborough.  Letters 

from  Newcastle  gave  an  account  of  a  great  match  at  football 
which  had  been  played  in  Northumberland,  and  was  suspected 
to  have  been  a  pretext  for  a  gathering  of  the  disaffected.  In 
the  crowd,  it  was  said,  were  a  hundred  and  fifty  horsemen  well 
mounted  and  armed,  of  whom  many  were  Paptists.* 

Meantime  packets  of  letters  full  of  treason  were  constantly 
passing  and  repassing  between  Kent  and  Picardy,  and  between 
Wales  and  Ireland.  Some  of  the  messengers  were  honest 
fanatics :  but  others  were  mere  mercenaries,  and  trafficked  in 
the  secrets  of  which  they  were  the  bearers. 

Of  these  double  traitors  the  most  remarkable  was  William 
Fuller.  This  man  has  himself  told  us  that,  when  he  was  very 
young,  he  fell  in  with  a  pamphlet  which  contained  an  account 
of  the  flagitious  life  and  horrible  death  of  Dangerfield.  The 
boy's  imagination  was  set  on  fire :  he  devoured  the  book :  he 
almost  got  it  by  heart ;  and  he  was  soon  seized,  and  ever  after 
haunted,  by  a  strange  presentiment  that  his  fate  would  re- 
semble that  of  the  wretched  adventurer  whose  history  he  had 
so  eagerly  read.f  It  might  have  been  supposed  that  the  pros- 
pect  of  dying  in  Newgate,  with  a  back  flayed  and  an  eye 
knocked  out,  would  not  have  seemed  very  attractive.  But  ex- 
perience proves  that  there  are  some  distempered  minds  for 
which  notoriety,  even  when  accompanied  with  pain  and  shame, 
has  an  irresistible  fascination.  Animated  by  this  loathsome 
ambition.  Fuller  equalled,  and  perhaps  surpassed,  his  model. 
He  was  bred  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  was  page  to  Lady  Melfort, 
when  lady  Melfort  shone  at  Whitehall  as  one  of  the  loveliest 
women  in  the  train  of  Mary  of  Modena.  After  the  Revolution, 
he  followed  his  mistress  to  France,  was  repeatedly  employed 
in  delicate  and  perilous  commissions,  and  was  thought  at 
Saint  Germains  to  be  a  devoted  servant  of  the  House  of 
Stuart.  In  truth,  however,  he  had,  in  the  course  of  one  of  his 
expeditions  to  London,  sold  himself  to  the  new  government, 
and  had  abjured  the  faith  in  which  he  had  been  brought  up. 
The  honor,  if  it  is  to  be  so  called,  of  turning  him  from  a  worth- 
less Papist  into  a  worthless  Protestant,  he  ascribed,  with 


♦  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary  ;  Commons'  Journals,  May  14,  15,  20,  1690  ;  Kingston's 
True  History,  1697. 

t  The  Whole  Life  of  Mr.  William  Fuller,  being  an  Impartial  Account  of  his  Birth, 
Education,  Relations,  and  Introduction  into  the  service  of  the  late  King  James  and  his 
Queen,  together  with  a  True  Discovery  of  the  Intrigues  for  which  he  lies  now  confined  f 
as  also  of  the  Persons  that  employed  and  assisted  him  therein,  with  his  Hearty  Repent* 
ance  for  the  Misdemeanors  he  did  in  the  late  Reign,  and  all  others  whom  he  hath  rajured} 
impartially  writ  by  Himself  during  his  Confinement  in  the  Queen's  B«ticb»  1703.  Of  •ottrKi 
t  shall  u$8  this  iMirr«iiv«  «dtli«aiitMQ* 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


characteristic  impudence,  to  the  lucid  reasoning  and  blameless 
life  ot  Tillotson. 

In  the  spring  of  1690,  Mary  of  Modena  wished  to  send 
to  her  correspondents  in  London  some  highly  important  de- 
spatches. As  these  despatches  were  too  bulky  to  be  con- 
cealed in  the  clothes  of  a  single  messenger,  it  was  necessary 
to  employ  two  confidential  persons.  Fuller  was  one.  The 
other  was  a  zealous  young  Jacobite  named  Crone.  Before 
they  set  out,  they  received  full  instructions  from  the  Queen 
herself.  Not  a  scrap  of  paper  was  to  be  detected  about  them 
by  an  ordinary  search  ;  but  their  buttons  contained  letters 
written  in  invisible  ink. 

The  pair  proceeded  to  Calais.  The  governor  of  that  town 
furnished  them  with  a  boat,  which,  under  cover  of  the  night, 
set  them  on  the  low  marshy  coast  of  Kent,  near  the  lighthouse 
of  Dungeness.  They  walked  to  a  farmhouse,  procured  horses, 
and  took  different  roads  to  London.  Fuller  hastened  to  the 
palace  at  Kensington,  and  delivered  the  documents  with  which 
he  was  charged  into  the  King's  hand.  The  first  letter  which 
William  unrolled  seemed  to  contain  only  florid  compliments; 
but  a  pan  of  charocal  was  lighted :  a  liquor  well  known  to  the 
diplomatists  of  that  age  was  applied  to  the  paper :  an  un- 
savory steam  filled  the  closet ;  and  lines  full  of  grave  mean- 
ing began  to  appear. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  secure  Crone.  He  had 
unfortunately  had  time  to  deliver  his  letters  before  he  was 
caught ;  but  a  snare  was  laid  for  him  into  which  he  easily 
fell.  In  truth,  the  sincere  Jacobites  Vs^ere  generally  wretched 
plotters.  There  was  among  them  an  unusually  large  propor- 
tion of  sots,  braggarts,  and  babblers ;  and  Crone  was  one  of 
these.  Had  he  been  wise,  he  would  have  shunned  places  of 
public  resort,  kept  strict  guard  over  his  tongue,  and  stinted 
himself  to  one  bottle  at  a  meal.  He  was  found  by  the 
messengers  of  the  government  at  a  tavern  table  in  Grace-church 
Street,  swallowing  bumpers  t  j  the  health  of  King  James,  and 
ranting  about  the  coming  restoration,  the  French  fleet,  and 
the  thousands  of  honest  Englishmen  who  were  awaiting  the 
signal  to  rise  in  arms  for  their  rightful  Sovereign.  He  was 
carried  to  the  Secretary's  office  at  Whitehall.  He  at  first 
seemed  to  be  confident  and  at  his  ease ;  but  when,  among  the 
bystanders.  Fuller  appeared  at  liberty,  and  in  a  fashionable 
garb,  with  a  sword,  the  prisoner's  courage  fell ;  and  he  was 
scarcely  able  to  articulate.  *  


*  Fttller's  tiU  of  himssll. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY, 


459 


The  news  that  Fuller  had  turned  king^s  evidence,  that 
Crone  had  been  arrested,  and  that  important  letters  from 
Saint  Germains  were  in  the  hands  of  William,  flew  fast  through 
London,  and  spread  dismay  among  all  who  were  conscious  of 
guilt.*  It  was  true  that  the  testimony  of  one  witness,  even  if 
that  witness  had  been  more  respectable  than  Fuller,  was  not 
legally  sufficient  to  convict  any  person  of  high  treason.  But 
Fuller  had  so  managed  matters  that  several  witnesses  could 
"be  produced  to  corroborate  his  evidence  against  Crone;  and, 
if  Crone,  under  the  strong  terror  of  death,  should  imitate 
Fuller's  example,  the  heads  of  all  the  chiefs  of  the  conspiracy 
would  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  government.  The  spirits  of  the 
Jacobites  rose,  however,  whten  it  was  known  that  Crone, 
though  repeatedly  interrogated  by  those  who  had  him  in  their 
power,  and  though  assured  that  nothing  but  a  frank  confession 
could  save  his  life,  had  resolutely  continued  silent.  What 
effect  a  verdict  of  Guilty  and  the  near  prospect  of  the  gallows 
might  produce  on  him  remained  to  be  seen.  His  accomplices 
were  by  no  means  willing  that  his  fortitude  should  be  tried 
by  so  severe  a  test.  They  therefore  employed  numerous 
artifices,  legal  and  illegal,  to  avert  a  conviction.  A  woman 
named  Clifford,  with  whom  he  had  lodged,  and  who  was  one 
of  the  most  active  and  cunning  agents  of  the  Jacobite  faction, 
was  entrusted  with  the  duty  of  keeping  him  steady  to  the 
cause,  and  of  rendering  to  him  services  from  which  scrupulous 
or  timid  agents  might  have  shrunk.  When  the  dreaded  day 
came.  Fuller  was  too  ill  to  appear  in  the  witness  box,  and  the 
trial  was  consequently  postponed.  He  asserted  that  his  malady 
w^as  not  natural,  that  a  noxious  drug  had  been  administered 
to  him  in  a  dish  of  porridge,  that  his  nails  were  discolored, 
_  that  his  hair  came  off,  and  that  able  physicians  pronounced 
him  poisoned.  But  such  stories,  even  when  they  rest  on 
authority  much  better  than  his,  ought  to  be  received  with  very 
great  distrust. 

While  Crone  was  awaiting  his  trial,  another  agent  of  the 
Court  of  Saint  Germains,  named  Tempest,  was  seized  on  the 
road  between  Dover  and  London,  and  was  found  to  be  the 
bearer  of  numerous  letters  addressed  to  malecontents  in  Eng- 
land.f  Every  day  it  became  more  plain  that  the  State  was 
surrounded  by  dangers ;  and  yet  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
that  at  this  conjuncture,  the  Chief  of  the  State  should  quit  his 
post. 

*  Qarendon's  Diary,  March  9,  1690  ;  NarciMiis  LuUrelI*s  Diary. 

t  Clsiren^pn's  Diary^  May  to,  1690.   


460  HISTORY  OP  CNGLANIX  4 

William,  with  painful  anxiety,  sueh  as  he  alone  w^s  able  to 
conceal  under  an  appearance  of  stoical  serenity,  prepared  to 
take  his  departure.  Mary  was  in  agonies  of  grief ;  and  her 
distress  affected  him  more  than  was  imagined  by  those  who 
judged  of  his  heart  by  his  demeanor.*  He  knew  too  that  he 
was  about  to  leave  her  surrounded  by  difficulties  with  which 
her  habits  had  not  qualified  her  to  contend.  She  would  be  in 
constant  need  of  wise  and  upright  counsel;  and  where  was 
such  counsel  to  be  found  ?  There  were  indeed  among  his 
servants  many  able  men,  and  a  few  virtuous  men.  But,  even 
when  he  was  present,  their  political  and  personal  animosities 
had  too  often  made  both  their  abilities  and  their  virtues  useless 
to  him.  What  chance  was  there  that  the  gentle  Mary  would 
be  able  to  restrain  that  party  spirit  and  that  emulation  which 
had  been  but  very  imperfectly  kept  in  order  by  her  resolute 
and  politic  husband  ?  If  the  interior  cabinet  which  was  to 
assist  the  Queen  were  composed  exclusively  either  of  Whigs  or 
of  Tories,  half  the  nation  would  be  disgusted.  Yet,  if  Whigs 
and  Tories  were  mixed,  it  was  certain  that  there  would  be  con- 
stant dissension.  Such  was  William's  situation  that  he  had 
only  a  choice  of  evils. 

All  these  difficulties  were  increased  by  the'  conduct  of 
Shrewsbury.  The  character  of  this  man  is  a  curious  study. 
He  seemed  to  be  the  petted  favorite  both  of  nature  and  of 
fortune.  Illustrious  birth,  exalted  rank,  ample  possessions, 
fine  parts,  extensive  acquirements,  an  agreeable  person,  man- 
ners singularly  graceful  and  engaging,  combined  to  make  him 
an  object  of  admiration  and  envy.  But,  with  all  these  advan- 
tages, he  had  some  moral  and  intellectual  peculiarities  which 
made  him  a  torment  to  himself  and  to  all  connected  with  him. 
His  conduct  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution  had  given  the  world 
a  high  opinion,  not  merely  of  his  patriotism,  but  of  his  courage,  ^ 
energy,  and  decision.  It  should  seem,  however,  that  youthful 
enthusiasm  and  the  exhilaration  produced  by  public  sympathy 
and  applause  had,  on  that  occasion,  raised  him  above  himself. 
Scarcely  any  other  part  of  his  life  was  of  a  piece  with  that 
splendid  commencement.  He  had  hardly  become  Secretary 
of  State  when  it  appeared  that  his  nerves  were  too  weak  for 
such  a  post.  The  daily  toil,  the  heavy  responsibility,  the  failures, 
the  mortifications,  the  obloquy,  which  are  inseparable  from 
power,  broke  his  spirit,  soured  his  temper,  and  impaired  his 
health.    To  such  natures  as  his  the  sustaining  power  of  high 


*  H«  wroto  to  Portland*    Je  plains  la  povre  reintt,       est  en  des  terribles  affli^ 


WILLIAM  AND  MAR^. 


461 


religious  principle  seems  to  be  peculiarly  necessary ;  and  un- 
fortunately Shrewsbury  had,  in  the  act  of  shaking  off  the  yoke 
of  that  superstition  in  which  he  had  been  brought  up,  liberated 
himself  also  from  more  salutary  bands  which  might  perhaps 
have  braced  his  too  delicately  constituted  mind  into  steadfast- 
ness and  uprightness.  Destitute  of  such  support,  he  was,  with 
great  abilities,  a  weak  man,  and  though  eridowed  with  many 
amiable  and  attractive  qualities,  could  not  be  called  an  honest 
man.  For  his  own  happiness,  he  should  either  have  been  much 
better  or  much  worse.  As  it  was,  he  never  knew  either  that 
noble  peace  of  mind  which  is  the  reward  of  rectitude,  or  that 
abject  pe^ce  of  mind  which  springs  from  impudence  and  in- 
sensibility. Few  people  who  have  had  so  little  power  to  resist 
temptation  have  suffered  so  cruelly  'torn  remorse  and  shame. 

To  a  man  of  this  temper  the  situation  of  a  minister  of  state 
during  the  year  which  followed  the  Revolution  must  have  been 
constant  torture.  The  difficulties  by  which  the  government 
was  beset  on  all  sides,  the  malignity  of  its  enemies,  the  unrea- 
sonableness of  its  friends,  the  virulence  with  which  the  hostile 
factions  fell  on  each  other  and  on  every  mediator  who  attempted 
to  part  them,  might  indeed  have  discouraged  a  more  resolute 
spirit.  Before  Shrewsbury  had  been  six  months  in  office,  he  had 
completely  lost  heart  and  head.  He  began  to  address  to  Wil- 
^  Ham  letters  which  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  that  a  prince  so  strong- 
minded  can  have  read  without  mingled  compassion  and  con- 
tempt. "  I  am  sensible," — such  was  the  constant  burden  of 
these  epistles, — "  that  I  am  unfit  for  my  place.  I  cannot  exert 
myself.  I  am  not  the  same  man  that  I  was  half  a  year  ago.  My 
health  is  giving  way.  My  mind  is  on  the  rack.  My  memory 
is  failing.  Nothing  but  quiet  and  retirement  can  restore  me." 
William  returned  friendly  and  soothing  answers  ;  and  for  a  time 
these  answers  calmed  the  troubled  mind  of  his  minister.*  But 
at  length  the  dissolution,  the  general  election,  the  change  in  the 
Commissions  of  Peace  and  Lieutenancy,  and  finally  the  debates 
on  the  two  Abjuration  Bills,  threw  Shrewsbury  into  a  state  bor- 
dering on  cfistraction.  He  was  angry  with  the  Whigs  for  using 
the  King  ill,  and  still  more  angry  with  the  King  for  showing 
favor  to  the  Tories.  At  what  moment  and  by  what  influence 
the  unhappy  man  was  induced  to  commit  a  treason,  the  con- 
sciousness of  which  threw  a  dark  shade  over  all  his  remaining 

J ears,  is  not  accurately  known.  But  it  is  highly  probable  that 
is  mother,  who,  though  the  most  abandoned  of  women,  had 


^  See  the  Letters  of  Shf ewsbm/  in  Coxo't  Correfpondencti  Part  I*  diap»  i» 


462 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


great  power  over  him, took  a  fatal  advantage  of  some  unguarded 
hour,  when  he  was  irritated  by  finding  his  advice  slighted,  and 
that  of  Danby  and  Nottingham  preferred.  She  was  still  a  mem- 
ber of  that  church  which  her  son  had  quitted,  and  may  have 
thought  that,  by  reclaiming  him  from  rebellion,  she  might  make 
some  atonement  for  the  violation  of  her  marraige  vow  and  the 
murder  of  her  lord;*  What  is  certain  is  that,  before  the  end 
of  the  spring  of  1690,  Shrewsbury  had  offered  his  services  to 
James,  and  that  James  had  accepted  them.  One  proof  of  the 
sincerity  of  the  convert  was  demanded.  He  must  resign  the 
seals  which  he  had  taken  from  the  hand  of  the  usurper.!  It 
is  probable  that  Shrewsbury  had  scarcely  committed  4iis  fault 
when  he  began  to  repent  of  it.  But  he  had  not  strength  of 
mind  to  stop  short  in  the  path  of  evil.  Loathing  his  own  base- 
ness, dreading  a  detection  which  must  be  fatal  to  his  honor, 
afraid  to  go  forward,  afraid  to  go  back,  he  underwent  tortures 
of  which  it  is  impossible  to  think  without  commiseration.  The 
true  cause  of  his  distress  was  as  yet  a  profound  secret  :  but  his 
mental  struggles  and  changes  of  purpose  were  generally  known, 
and  furnished  the  town,  during  some  weeks,  with  topics  of  con- 
versation. One  night,  when  he  was  actually  setting  out  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement  for  the  palace,  with  the  seals  in  his 
hand,  he  was  induced  by  Burnet  to  defer  his  resignation  for  a 
few  hours.  Some  days  later  the  eloquence  of  Tillotson  was 
employed  for  the  same  purpose. t  Three  or  four  times  the  Earl 
laid  the  ensigns  of  his  office  on  the  table  of  the  royal  closet, 
and  was  three  or  four  times  induced,  by  the  kind  expostulations 
of  the  master  whom  he  was  conscious  of  having  wronged,  to 
take  them  up  and  carry  them  away.  Thus  the  resignation  was 
deferred  till  the  eve  of  the  King's  departure.  By  that  time  agi- 
tation had  thrown  Shrewsbury  into  a  low  fever.  Bentinck,  who 
made  a  last  effort  to  persuade  him  to  retain  office,  found  him  in 
bed  and  too  ill  for  conversation. §  The  resignation  so  often 
tendered  was  at  last  accepted,  and  during  some  months  Not- 
tingham  was  the  only  Secretary  of  State. 

It  was  no  small  addition  to  William's  trouble  that,  at  such 
a  moment,  Ms  government  should  be  weakened  by  this  defec- 

*  That  Lady  Shrewsbury  was  a  Jacobite,  and  did  her  best  to  make  her  son  so,  is  certain 
from  Lloyd's  Paper  of  May  1694,  which  is  among  the  Nairne  MSS.,  and  was  printed  by 
Macpherson. 

t  This  is  proved  by  a  few  words  in  a  paper  which  James,  in  November  1692,  laid  before 
the  French  government.  **  II  y  a,'*  says  he,  "  le  Comte  de  Shrusbery,  qui,  ^tant  Secretaire 
d'Etatdu  Prince  d'Orange,  s'est  d^fait  de  sa  charge  par  mon  ordre."  One  copy  of  this 
most  valuable  paper  is  in  the  Archives  of  the  French  For«!^n  Office.^  Another  is  among 
the  Nairne  MSS.  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  A  translation  into  English  will  be  found  in 
Macpherson'a  collection,  - 

I  Burnet,  il.  45.  §  Shrewsbiir/  to  Somersy  Sept*  22,  r6gj» 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


tJon.  He  trfed,  however,  to  do  his  best  with  the  materials 
which  remained  to  him,  and  finally  selected  nine  privy  council- 
lors, by  whose  advice  he  enjoined  Mary  to  be  guided.  Folir  of 
these,  Devonshire,  Dorset,  Monmouth,  and  Edward  Russell, 
were  Whigs.  The  other  five,  Caermarthen,  Pembroke,  Notting- 
ham, Marlborough,  and  Lowther,  were  Tories."^ 

William  ordered  the  nine  to  attend  him  at  the  ofiice  of  the 
Secretary  of  State.  When  they  were  assembled,  he  came  lead- 
ing in  the  Queen,  desired  them  to  be  seated,  and  addressed  to 
them  a  few  earnest  and  weighty  words,  "  She  wants  experience," 
he  said :  "  but  I  hope  that,  by  choosing  you  to  be  her  counsel- 
lors, I  have  supplied  that  defect.  I  put  my  kingdom  into  your 
hands.  Nothing  foreign  or  domestic  shall  be  kept  secret  from 
you.  I  implore  you  to  be  diligent  and  to  be  united. 
private  he  told  his  wife  what  he  thought  of  the  characters  of 
the  Nine ;  and  it  should  seem,  from  her  letters  to  him,  that 
there  were  few  of  the  number  for  whom  he  expressed  any  high 
esteem.  Marlborough  was  to  be  her  guide  in  military  affairs, 
and  was  to  command  the  troops  in  England.  Russell,  who  was 
^Admiral  of  the  Blue,  and  had  been  rewarded  for  the  service 
which  he  had  done  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution  with  the  lu- 
crative place  of  Treasurer  of  the  Navy,  was  well  fitted  to  be 
her  adviser  on  all  questions  relating  to  the  fleet.  But  Caer- 
marthen was  designated  as  the  person  on  whom,  in  case  of  any 
difference  of  opinion  in  the  council,  she  ought  chiefly  to  rely. 
Caermarthen's  sagacity  and  experience  were  unquestionable  : 
his  principles,  indeed,  were  lax  :  but  if  there  was  any  person 
in  existence  to  whom  he  was  likely  to  be  true,  that  person  was 
Mary.  He  had  long  been  in  a  peculiar  manner  her  friend  and 
servant :  he  had  gained  a  high  place  in  her  favor  by  bringiaig 
about  her  marriage;  and  he  had,  in  the  Convention,  carried 
his  zeal  for  her  interest  to  a  length  which  she  had  herself 
blamed  as  excessive.  There  was,  therefore,  every  reason  to 
hope  that  he  would  serve  her  at  this  critical  conjuncture  with 
sincere  good  will.$ 

One  of  her  nearest  kinsmen,  on  the  other  hand,  was  one  of 
her  bitterest  enemies.  The  evidence  which  was  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  government  proved  beyond  dispute  that  Clarendon 

*  Among  the  State  Poems  (vol.  ii.  p.  211)  will  be  found  a  piece  which  some  ignorant 

editor  has  entitled,  "A  Satyr  written  when  the  K  went  to  Flanders  and  left  nine  Lord? 

Justices.'*  I  have  a  manuscript  copy  of  this  satire,  evidently  contemporary,  and  bearing  tha 
date  1690.  It  is  indeed  evident  at  a  glance  that  the  nine  persons  satirized  are  the  nine 
members  of  the  interior  council  which  William  appointed  to  assist  Mary  when  he  went  t« 
Ireland.    Some  of  them  never  were  Lords  Justices. 

t  From  a  narrative  written  by  Lowther,  which  is  among  the  Mackintosh  MSS, 

I  See  Mary's  Letters  to  WiUiam«  published  hj  Dalrymiie. 


464 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLANt), 


was  deeply  concerned  in  the  Jacobite  scheme  of  insurrection. 
But  the  Queen  was  most  unwilling  that  her  kindred  should  be 
harshly  treated ;  and  William,  remembering  through  what  ties 
she  had  broken,  and  what  reproaches  she  had  incurred,  for  his 
sake,  readily  gave  her  uncle's  life  and  liberty  to  her  interces- 
sion. But  before  the  King  set  out  for  Ireland,  he  spoke  seri- 
ously to  Rochester.  "  Your  brother  has  been  plotting  against 
me.  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  have  the  proofs  under  his  own  hand. 
I  was  urged  to  leave  him  out  of  the  Act  of  Grace  ;  but  I  would 
not  do  what  would  have  given  so  much  pain  to  the  Queen.  For 
her  sake  I  forgive  the  past :  but  my  Lord  Clarendon  will  do 
well  to  be  cautious  for  the  future.  If  not,  he  will  find  that 
these  are  no  jesting  matters.''  Rochester  communicated  the 
admonition  to  Clarendon.  Clarendon,  who  was  in  constant 
correspondence  with  Dublin  and  Saint  Germains,  protested 
that  his  ooly  wish  was  to  be  quiet,  and  that,  though  he  felt  a 
scruple  about  the  oaths,  the  existing  government  had  not  a 
more  obedient  subject  than  he  purposed  to  be.* 

Among  the  letters  which  the  government  had  intercepted 
was  one  from  James  to  Penn.  That  letter,  indeed,  was  not 
legal  evidence  to  prove  that  the  person  to  whom  it  was  ad- 
dressed had  been  guilty  of  high  treason  :  but  it  raised  suspi- 
cions which  are  now  known  to  have  been  well  founded.  Penn 
was  brought  before  the  Privy  Council,  and  interrogated.  He 
said  very  truly  that  he  could  not  prevent  people  from  "writing 
to  him,  and  that  he  was  not  accountable  for  what  they  might 
write  him.  He  acknowledged  that  he  was  bound  to  the  late 
King  by  ties  of  gratitude  and  affection  which  no  change  of  for- 
tune could  dissolve  "  I  should  be  glad  to  do  him  any  service 
in  his  private  affairs  :  but  I  owe  a  sacred  duty  to  my  country ; 
and  therefore  I  was  never  so  wicked  as  even  to  think  of  en- 
deavoring to  bring  him  back/*  This  was  a  falsehood;  and 
William  was  probably  aware  that  it  was  so.  He  was  unwilling 
however  to  deal  harshly  with  a  man  who  had  many  titles  to 
respect,  and  who  was  not  likely  to  be  a  very  formidable  plotter. 
He  therefore  declared  himself  satisfied,  and  proposed  to  dis- 
charge the  prisoner.  Some  of  the  Privy  Councillors,  however, 
remonstrated;  and  Penn  was  required  to  give  bail.f 

On  the  day  before  William's  departure,  he  called  Burnet 
into  his  closet,  and,  in  firm  but  mournful  language,  Spoke  of 
the  dangers  which  on  every  side  menaced  the  realm,  of  the 
fury  of  the  contending  factions,  and  of  the  evil  spirit  which 


*  Plmadoa't  Diary.  May  30^  x6go* 


f  OecmrdQpQMO* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


seemed  to  possess  too  many  of  the  clergy.  "  But  mjr  trust  is 
in  God.  I  will  go  through  with  my  work  or  perish  in  it.  Oftly 
I  cannot  help  feeling  for  the  poor  Queen ;  and  twice  he  re- 
peated with  unwonted  tenderness,  "the  poor  Queen.*'  "If 
you  love  me,"  he  added,  "  wait  on  her  often,  and  give  her 
what  help  you  can.  As  for  me,  but  for  one  thing,  I  should 
enjoy  the  prospect  of  being  on  horseback  and  under  canvas 
again.  For  I  am  sure  that  I  am  fitter  to  direct  a  campaign 
than  to  manage  your  Houses  of  Lords  and  Commons.  But 
though  I  know  that  I  am  in  the  path  of  duty,  it  is  hard  on  my 
wife  that  her  father  and  I  must  be  opposed  to  each  other  in 
the  field.  God  send  that  no  harm  may  happen  to  him.  Let 
me  have  your  prayers.  Doctor.''  Burnet  retired  greatly  moved, 
and  doubtless  put  up,  with  no  common  fervor,  those  prayers 
for  which  his  master  had  asked.* 

On  the  following  day,  the  fourth  of  June,  the  King  set  out 
for  Ireland.  Prince  George  had  offered  his  services,  had  equip- 
ped himself  at  great  charge,  and  fully  expected  to  be  compli- 
mented with  a  seat  in  the  royal  coach.  But  William,  who 
promised  himself  little  pleasure  or  advantage  from  His  Royal 
Highnesses  conversation,  and  who  seldom  stood  on  ceremony, 
took  Portland  for  a  travelling  companion,  and  never  once,  dur- 
ing the  whole  of  that  eventful  campaign,  seemed  to  be  aware 
of  the  Prince's  existence.f  George,  if  left  to  himself,  would 
hardly  have  noticed  the  affront.  But,  though  he  was  too  dull 
to  feel,  his  wife  felt  for  him  ;  and  her  resentment  was  studi- 
ously kept  alive  by  mischief-makers  of  no  common  dexterity. 
On  this,  as  on  many  other  occasions,  the  infirmities  of  William's 
temper  proved  seriously  detrimental  to  the  great  interests  of 
which  he  was  the  guardian.  His  reign  would  have  been  far 
more  prosperous  if,  with  his  own  courage,  capacity,  and  eleva* 
tion  of  mind,  he  had  had  a  little  of  the  easy  good  humor  and 
politeness  of  his  uncle  Charles. 

In  four  days  the  King  arrived  at  Chester,  where  a  fleet 
of  transports  was  awaiting  the  signal  for  sailing.  He  em- 
barked  on  the  eleventh  of  June,  and  was  conveyed  across  Saint 
George's  Channel  by  a  squadron  of  men  of  war  under  the  com 
mand  of  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel. t 

The  month  which  followed  William's  departure  from  Lon- 
don was  one  of  the  most  eventful  and  anxious  months  in  th^ 


*  Kurnet,  il  46.  t  The  Duchess  of  Marlborough's  Vindication. 

%  London  Gazettes,  June,  5,  12,  16,  1690  ;  Hop  to  the  States  General  from  Cheslifj 
June  9,  I.    Hop  attended  William  tP  Ireland  as  envoy  fronj  the  StMm* 


466 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


whole  history  of  England.    A  few  hours  after  he  had  set  out| 

Crone  was  brought  to  the  bar  of  the  Old  Bailey.  A  great  array 
of  judges  was  on  the  bench*  Fuller  had  recovered  sufficiently 
to  make  his  appearance  in  court ;  and  the  trial  proceeded.  The 
Jacobites  had  been  indefatigable  in  their  efforts  to  ascertain 
the  political  opinions  of  the  persons  whose  names  were  on  the 
jury  list.  So  many  were  challenged  that  there  was  some  difficulty 
in  making  up  the  number  of  twelve  ;  and  among  the  twelve  was 
one  on  whom  the  malecontents  thought  that  they  could  depend. 
Nor  were  they  altogether  mistaken  ;  for  this  man  held  out 
against  his  eleven  companions  all  night  and  half  the  next  day  ; 
and  he  would  probably  have  starved  them  into  submission  had 
not  Mrs.  Clifford,  who  was  in  league  with  him,  been  caught 
throwing  sweetmeats  to  him  through  the  window.  His  supplies 
having  been  cut  off,  he  yielded ;  and  a  verdict  of  Guilty,  which, 
it  was  said,  cost  two  of  the  jurymen  their  lives,  was  returned. 
A  motion  arrest  of  judgment  was  instantly  made,  on  the 
ground  that  a  Latin  word  endorsed  on  the  back  of  the  indict- 
ment was  incorrectly  spelt.  The  objection  was  undoubtedly 
frivolous.  Jeffreys  would  have  at  once  overruled  it  with  a  tor- 
rent of  curses,  and  would  have  proceeded  to  the  most  agreeable 
part  of  his  duty,  that  of  describing  to  the  prisoner  the  whole 
process  of  half-hanging,  disembowelling,  mutilating,  and  quar- 
tering. But  Holt  and  his  brethren  remembered  that  they  were 
now  for  the  first  time  since  the  Revolution  trying  a  culprit  on  a 
charge  of  high  treason.  It  was,  therefore,  desirable  to  show,  in 
a  manner  not  to  be  misunderstood,  that  a  new  era  had  com- 
menced, and  that  the  tribunals  v/ould  in  future  rather  err  on 
the  side  of  humanity  than  imitate  the  cruel  haste  and  levity 
with  which  Cornish  had,  when  pleading  for  his  life,  been  silenced 
by  servile  judges.  The  passing  of  ,the  sentence  was,  there- 
fore, deferred  :  a  day  was  appointed  for  considering  the  point 
raised  by  Crone  ;  and  counsel  were  assigned  to  argue  in  his 
behalf.  "  This  would  not  have  been  done,  Mr.  Crone,'*  said 
the  Lord  Chief  Justice  significantly,  "  in  either  of  the  last  two 
reigns.'*  After  a  full  hearing,  the  Bench  unanimously  pro- 
nounced the  error  to  be  immaterial ;  and  the  prisoner  was  con- 
demned to  death.  He  owned  that  his  trial  had  been  fair, 
thanked  the  judges  for  their  patience,  and  besought  them  to 
intercede  for  him  with  the  Queen.* 

He  was  soon  informed  that  his  fate  was  in  his  own  hands. 

*  Clarendon's  Diary.  June  7  and  12,  16901   Narcissus  Luttrell*s  Diary;  Baden.  th« 
Dutch  Secretary  of  Legation,  to  Van  Citters.  June  10-20  :   Fuller's  Life  o|  himself  >  Wei- 
Mercunuf  Reforniatus,  June  Hj  1690. 


WILtlAM  ANt)  MARY, 


467 


The  government  was  willing  to  spare  him  if  he  would  earn  his 
pardon  by  a  full  confession.  The  struggle  in  his  mind  was 
terrible  and  doubtful.  At  one  time  Mrs.  Clifford,  who  had  ac- 
cess to  his  cell,  reported  to  the  Jacobite  chiefs  that  he  was  in  a 
great  agony.  He  could  not  die,  he  said  ;  he  was  too  young  to 
be  a  martyr.*  The  next  morning  she  found  him  cheerful  and 
resolute. t  He  held  out  till  the  eve  of  the  day  fixed  for  his  ex- 
ecution. Then  he  sent  to  ask  for  an  interview  with  the  Secre- 
tary of  State.  Nottingham  went  to  Newgate  :  but,  before  he  ar- 
rived. Crone  had  changed  his  mind,  and  was  determined  to  say 
nothing.  "  Then,"  said  Nottingham,  ^'  I  shall  see  you  no  more  : 
for  to-morrow  will  assuredly  be  your  last  day.''  But,  after  Not- 
tingham had  departed,  Monmouth  repaired  to  the  jail,  and  flat° 
tered  himself  that  he  had  shaken  the  prisoner's  resolution.  At 
a  very  late  hour  that  night  came  a  respite  for  a  week.  J  The 
week  however  passed  away  without  any  disclosure  :  the  gallows 
and  quartering  block  were  ready  at  Tyburn  :  the  sledge  and 
axe  were  at  the  door  of  Newgate  :  the  crowd  was  thick  all  up 
Holborn  Hill  and  along  the  Oxford  road ;  when  a  messenger 
brought  another  respite,  and  Crone,  .instead  of  being  dragged 
to  the  place  of  execution,  was  conducted  to  the  Council  cham- 
ber at  Whitehall.  His  fortitude  had  been  at  last  overcome  by 
the  near  prospect  of  death  ;  and  on  this  occasion  he  gave  im- 
portant information. § 

Such  information  as  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  give  was  indeed 
at  that  moment  much  needed.  Both  an  invasion  and  an  insur- 
rection were  hourly  expected.  ||  Scarcely  had  William  set  out 
from  London  when  a  great  French  fleet  commanded  by  the 
Count  of  Tourville  left  the  port  of  Brest  and  entered  the^ 
British  Channel.  Tourville  was  the  ablest  maritime  commander 
that  his  country  then  possessed.  He  had  studied  every  part  of 
his  profession.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he  was  competent  to 
fill  any  place  on  shipboard  from  that  of  carpenter  up  to  that  of 
Admiral.  It  was  said  of  him,  also,  that  to  the  dauntless  cour- 
age of  a  seaman  he  united  the  suavity  and  urbanity  of  an  ac- 
complished gentleman. IT  He  now  stood  over  to  the  English 
shore,  and  approached  it  so  near  that  his  ships  could  be  plainly 
descried  from  the  ramparts  of  Plymouth.  From  Plymouth  he 
proceeded  slowly  along  the  coast  of  Devonshire  and  Dorset- 


*  ClareHdon's  Diary,  June  8,  1690.  t  Clarendon's  Diary,  June  10. 

t  Baden  to  Van  Citters,  June  20-30, 1690 ;  Clarendon'*  Diary,  June  19 ;  Luttr«ll*» 
Diary. 

§  Clarendon's  Diary,  June  tj, 

1  Luttrell*s  Diary. 

1  MemeirB  of  Saint  8ime«* 


468 


HISTORY  OP  ENGLAND. 


shire.  There  was  great  reason  to  apprehend  that  his  move* 
ments  had  been  concerted  with  the  English  malecontents.* 

The  Queen  and  her  Council  hastened  to  take  measures  for 
the  defence  of  the  country  against  both  foreign  and  domestic 
enemies.  Torrington  took  the  command  of  the  English  fleet 
which  lay  in  the  Downs,  and  sailed  to  Saint  Helens'.  He  was 
there  joined  by  a  Dutch  squadron  under  the  command  of 
Evertsen.  It  seemed  that  the  cliffs  of  the  Isle  of  Wight  would 
witness  one  of  the  greatest  naval  conflicts  recorded  in  history. 
A  hundred  and  fifty  ships  of  the  line  could  be  counted  at  once 
from  the  watchtower  of  Saint  Catharine.  On  the  east  of  the 
huge  precipice  of  Black  Gang  Chine,  and  in  full  view  of  the 
richly  wooded  rocks  of  Saint  Lawrence  and  Ventnor,  were  col- 
lected the  maritime  forces  of  England  and  Holland.  On  the 
west,  stretching  to  that  white  cape  where  the  waves  roar  among 
the  Needles,  lay  the  arrnament  of  France. 

It  was  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  June,  less  than  a  fortnight 
after  William  had  sailed  for  Ireland,  that  the  hostile  fleets  took 
up  these  positions.  A  few  hours  earlier,  there  had  been  an 
important  and  anxious  sitting  of  the  Privy  Council  at  White- 
hall. The  malecontents  who  were  leagued  with  France  were 
alert  and  full  of  hope.  Mary  had  remarked,  while  taking  her 
airmg,  that  Hyde  Park  was  swarming  with  them.  The  whole 
board  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  necessary  to  arrest  some  per- 
sons of  whose  guilt  the  government  had  proofs.  When  Claren- 
don was  named,  something  was  said  in  his  behalf  by  his  friend 
and  relation  Sir  Henry  Capel.  The  other  councillors  stared, 
but  remained  silent.  It  was  no  pleasant  task  to  accuse  the 
Queen's  kinsman  in  the  Queen's  presence.  Mary  had  scarcely 
ever  opened  her  lips  at  Council :  but  now,  being  possessed  of 
clear  proofs  of  her  uncle's  treason  in  his  own  handwriting,  and 
knowing  that  respect  for  her  prevented  her  advisers  from  pro- 
posing what  the  public  safety  required,  she  broke  silence.  "  Sir 
Henry,"  she  said,  "I  know,  and  everybody  here  knows  as  well 
as  I,  that  there  is  too  much  against  my  Lord  Clarendon  to  leave 
him  out."  The  warrant  was  drawn  up ;  and  Capel  signed  it 
with  the  rest.  "  I  am  more  sorry  for  Lord  Clarendon,''  Mary 
wrote  to  her  husband,  "  than,  may  be,  will  be  believed."  That 
evening,  Clarendon  and  several  other  noted  Jacobites,  were 
lodged  in  the  Tower.f 

•  London  Gazette,  June  26,  1690  :  Baden  to  Van  Citters,  J""^ 

•  July  4. 

t  Mary  to  William,  June  a6,  1690  ;  Clarendoa*5  Diary  of  the  same  date ;  NardiMU 
Luttrdrt  0U17. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


When  the  Privy  Council  had  risen,  the  Queen  and  the 
interior  Council  of  Nine  had  to  consider  a  question  of  the 
gravest  importance.  What  orders  were  to  be  sent  to  Torring- 
ton  ?  The  safety  of  the  State  might  depend  on  his  judgment 
and  presence  of  mind;  and  some  of  Mary's  advisers  appre- 
hended that  he  would  not  be  found  equal  to  the  occasion. 
Their  anxiety  increased  when  news  came  that  he  had  abandoned 
the  coast  of  the  Isle  of  Wight  to  the  French,  and  was  retreating 
before  them  towards  the  Straits  of  Dover.  The  ^  sagacious 
Caermarthen  and  the  enterprising  Monmouth  agreed  in  blaming 
these  cautious  tactics.  It  was  true  that  Torrington  had  not  so 
many  vessels  as  Tourville,  but  Caermarthen  thought  that,  at 
such  a  time,  it  was  advisable  to  fight,  although  against  odds ; 
and  Monmouth  was,  through  life,  for  fighting  at  all  times  and 
against  all  odds.  Russell,  who  was  indisputably  one  of  the  best 
seamen  of  the  age,  held  that  the  disparity  of  numbers  was  not 
such  as  ought  to  cause  any  uneasiness  to  an  officer  who  com- 
manded English  and  Dutch  sailors.  He  therefore  proposed  to 
send  to  the  Admiral  a  reprimand  couched  in  terms  so  severe 
that  the  Queen  did  not  like  to  sign  it.  The  language  was  much 
softened :  but,  in  the  main,  RusselPs  advice  was  followed. 
Torrington  was  positively  ordered  to  retreat  no  further,  and  to 
give  battle  immediately.  Devonshire,  however,  was  still  unsat- 
isfied. "  It  is  my  duty,  Madam,''  he  said,  to  tell  Your  Majesty 
exactly  what  I  think  on  a  matter  of  this  importance ;  and  I 
think  that  my  Lord  Torrington  is  not  a  man  to  be  trusted  with 
the  fate  of  three  kingdoms."  Devonshire  was  right :  but  his 
colleagues  were  unanimously  of  opinion  that  to  supersede  a 
commander  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  and  on  the  eve  of  a  general 
action,  would  be  a  course  full  of  danger ;  and  it  is  difficult  to 
say  that  they  were  wrong.  "You  must  either,"  said  Russell, 
*^  leave  him  where  he  is,  or  send  for  him  as  a  prisoner."  Sev- 
eral expedients  were  suggested.  Caermarthen  proposed  that 
Russell  should  be  sent  to  assist  Torrington.  Monmouth  pas- 
sionately implored  permission  to  join  the  fleet  in  any  capacity, 
as  a  captain,  or  as  a  volunteer.  "  Only  let  me  be  once  on 
board  ;  and  I  pledge  my  life  that  there  shall  be  a  battle.  After 
much  discussion  and  hesitation,  it  was  resolved  that  both  Rus- 
sell and  Monmouth  should  go  down  to  the  coast*  They  set 
out,  but  too  late.  The  despatch  which  ordered  Torrington  to 
fight  had  preceded  them.  It  reached  him  when  he  was  off 
Beachy  Head.    He  read  it,  and  was  in  a  great  strait.    Not  to 


Mary  to  Willtami  June  28  and  July  2,  1690. 


470 


HISTORY  or  EI^OLAND. 


give  battle  was  to  be  guilty  of  direct  disobedience.  To  givft 
battle  was,  in  his  judgment,  to  incur  serious  risk  of  defeat.  He 
probably  suspected, — for  he  was  of  a  captious  and  jealous  tem- 
per,— that  the  instructions  which  placed  him  in  so  painful  a 
dilemma  had  been  framed  by  enemies  and  rivals  with  a  design 
unfriendly  to  his  fortune  and  his  fame.  He  was  exasperated 
by  the  thought  that  he  was  ordered  about  and  overruled  by 
Russell,  who,  though  his  inferior  in  professional  rank,  exer- 
cised, as  one  of  the  Council  of  Nine,  a  supreme  control  over  all 
the  departments  of  the  public  service.  There  seems  to  be  no 
sufficient  ground  for  charging  Torrington  with  disaffection. 
Still  less  can  it  be  suspected  that  an  officer,  whose  whole  life 
had  been  passed  in  confronting  danger,  and  who  had  always 
borne  himself  bravely,  wanted  the  personal  courage  which  hun- 
dreds of  sailors  on  board  of  every  ship  under  his  command 
possessed.  But  there  is  a  higher  courage  of  which  Torrington 
was  wholly  destitute.  He  shrank  from  all  responsibility,  from 
the  responsibility  of  fighting,  and  from  the  responsibility  of  not 
fighting ;  and  he  succeeded  in  finding  out  a  middle  way  which 
united  all  the  inconveniences  which  he  wished  to  avoid.  He 
would  conform  to  the  letter  of  his  instructions  :  yet  he  would 
not  put  everything  to  hazard.  Some  of  his  ships  should  skir- 
mish with  the  enemy :  but  the  great  body  of  his  fleet  should  not 
be  risked.  It  was  evident  that  the  vessels  which  engaged  the 
French  would  be  placed  in  a  most  dangerous  situation,  and 
would  suffer  much  loss ;  and  there  is  but  too  good  reason  to 
believe  that  Torrington  was  base  enough  to  lay  his  plans  in 
such  a  manner  that  the  danger  and  loss  might  fall  almost  ex- 
clusively to  the  share  of  the  Dutch.  He  bore  them  no  love  ; 
and  in  England  they  were  so  unpopular  that  the  destruction  of 
their  whole  squadron  was  likely  to  cause  fewer  murmurs  than 
the  capture  of  one  of  our  own  frigates. 

It  was  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  June  that  the  Admiral  re- 
ceived the  orders  to  fight.  The  next  day,  at  four  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  bore  down  on  the  French  fleet  and  formed  his  vessels 
in  order  of  battle.  He  had  not  sixty  sail  of  the  line,  and  the 
French  had  at  least  eighty ;  but  his  ships  were  more  strongly 
manned  than  those  of  the  enemy.  He  placed  the  Dutch  in  the 
van  and  gave  them  the  signal  to  engage.  That  signal  was 
promptly  obeyed.  Evertsen  and  his  countrymen  fought  with  a 
courage  to  which  both  their  English  allies  and  their  French  en- 
emies, in  spite  of  national  prejudices,  did  full  justice.  In  none 
of  Van  Tromp's  or  DeRuyter's  battles  had  the  honor  of  the 
Batavian  flag  been  more  gallantly  upheld.    During  many  hour* 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV, 


471 


the  van  maintained  the  unequal  contest  with  very  little  assist- 
ance from  any  other  part  of  the  fleet.  At  length  the  Dutch 
Admiral  drew  off,  leaving  one  shattered  and  dismasted  hull  to 
the  enemy.  His  second  in  command  and  several  officers  of 
high  rank  had  fallen.  To  keep  the  sea  against  the  French 
after  this  disastrous  and  ignominious  action  was  impossible. 
The  Dutch  ships  which  had  come  out  of  the  fight  were  in  a 
lamentable  condition.  Torrington  ordered  some  of  them  to  be 
destroyed  :  the  rest  he  took  in  tow  :  he  then  fled  along  the 
coast  of  Kent,  and  sought  a  refuge  in  the  Thames.  As  soon 
as  he  was  in  the  river,  he  ordered  all  the  buoys  to  be  pulled 
up,  and  thus  made  the  navigation  so  dangerous,  that  the  pur- 
suers could  not  venture  to  follow  him."* 

It  was,  however,  thought  by  many,  and  especially  by  the 
French  ministers,  that,  if  Tourville  had  been  more  enterpris- 
ing, the  allied  fleet  might  have  been  destroyed.  He  seems  to 
have  borne,  in  one  respect,  too  much  resemblance  to  his 
vanquished  opponent.  Though  a  brave  man,  he  was  a  timid 
commander.  His  life  he  exposed  with  careless  gayety  ;  but  it 
was  said  that  he  was  nervously  anxious  and  pusillanimously 
cautious  when  his  professional  reputation  was  in  danger.  He 
was  so  much  annoyed  by  these  censures  that  he  soon  became^ 
unfortunately  for  his  country,  bold  even  to  temerity."** 

There  has  scarcely  ever  been  so  sad  a  day  in  London  as 
that  on  which  the  news  of  the  Battle  of  Beachy  Head  arrived. 
The  shame  was  insupportable  :  the  peril  was  imminent.  What 
if  the  victorious  enemy  should  do  what  De  Ruyter  had  done  ? 
What  if  the  dockyards  of  Chatham  should  again  be  destroyed  ? 
What  if  the  Tower  itself  should  be  bombarded  ?  What  if  the 
vast  wood  of  masts  and  yardarms  below  London  Bridge  should 
be  in  a  blaze  ?  Nor  was  this  all.  Evil  tidings  had  just  ar- 
rived from  the  Low  Countries.  The  allied  forces  under  Wal- 
deck  had,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Fleurus,  encountered  the 
.French  commanded  by  the  Duke  of  Luxemburg.     Tli^  day 


*  Report  of  the  Commissioners  of  the  Admirality  to  the  Queen,  dated  Sheerness,  July  i8, 
1690  ;  Evidence  of  Captains  Cornwall,  Jones,  Martin  and  Hubbard,  and  of  Vice  Admiral 
Belaval  ;  Burnet,  li.  52,  and  Speaker  Onslow's  note  :  M^moires  du  Marechal  de  Tour- 
ville ;  Memoirs  of  Transactions  at  Sea  by  Josiah  Burchett,  Esq.,  Secretary  to  the  Admiralty, 
1703  ;  London  Gazette,  July  3  ;  Historical  and  PoHtical  Mercury  for  July  1690  ;  Mary -  to 
William,  July  2  ;  Torrington  to  Caermarthen,  July  i.  The  account  of  the  battle  in  the 
Paris  Gazette  of  July  15,  1690,  is  not  to  be  read  without  shame.  "  On  a  sgeu  que  les  Hol- 
landois  !>*estoient  tres  bien  battus,  et  qu'ils  s*estoient  comportez  en  cette  occasion  en  braves 
gens,  mais  que  les  Anglois  n'en  ayoient  pas  agi  de  meme."  In  the  French  official  relation 
of  the  battle  of  Cape  Bev^zier, — an  odd  corruption'of  Pevensey, — are  some  passages  to  the 
same  effect  :  "  Les  Hollandois  combattirent  atvc  beaucoup  de  courage  et  de  fermet^  ;  mais 
ils  ne  furent  pas  bien  secondez  par  les  Anglois.*^  *'  Les  Anglois  se  distingu^rent  des  vais* 
•eaux  de  Hollande  par  le  peu  de  valeur  qu*ils  montr^rent  dao»  le  combat."  , 
t  J^ife  of  J*mes,  ii.  409  ;  Buinet,  i\,  §. 


472 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


had  been  long  and  fiercely  disputed.  At  length  the  skill  of 
the  French  general  and  the  impetuous  valor  of  the  French 
cavalry  had  prevailed."*  Thus  at  the  same  moment  the  army 
of  Lewis  was  victorious  in  Flanders,  and  his  navy  was  in  un- 
disputed possession  of  the  Channel.  Marshal  Humieres  with 
a  considerable  force  lay  not  far  from  the  Straits  of  Dover.  It 
had  been  given  out  that  he  was  about  to  join  Luxemburg.  But 
the  information  which  the  English  government  received  from 
able  military  men  in  the  Netherlands  and  from  spies  who  mixed 
with  the  Jacobites,  and  which  to  so  great  a  master  of  the  art 
of  war  as  Marlborough  seemed  to  deserve  serious  attention, 
was,  that  the  army  of  Humieres  would  instantly  march  to  Dun- 
kirk and  would  there  be  taken  on  board  of  the  fleet  of  Tour- 
ville.f  Between  the  coast  of  Artois  and  the  Nore  not  a  single 
ship  bearing  the  red  cross  of  Saint  George  could  venture  to 
show  herself.  The  embarkation  would  be  the  business  of  a 
few  hours.  A  few  hours  more  might  suffice  for  the  voyage. 
At  any  moment  London  might  be  appalled  by  the  news  that 
twenty  thousand  French  veterans  were  in  Kent.  It  was  notori- 
ous that,  in  every  part  of  the  kingdom,  the  Jacobites  had  been, 
during  some  months,  making  preparations  for  a  rising.  All 
the  regular  troops  who  could  be  assembled  for  the  defence  of 
the  island  did  not  amount  to  more  than  ten  thousand  men.  It 
may  be  doubted  whether  our  country  has  ever  passed  through 
a  more  alarming  crisis  than  that  of  the  first  week  of  July,  1690, 
But  the  evil  brought  with  it  its  own  remedy.  Those  little 
knew  England  who  imagined  that  she  could  be  in  danger  at 
once  of  rebellion  and  invasion  :  for  in  truth  the  danger  of  in- 
vasion was  the  best  security  against  the  danger  of  rebellion. 
The  cause  of  James  was  the  cause  of  France  ;  and  though,  to 
superficial  observers,  the  French  alliance  seemed  to  be  his  chief 
support,  it  really  was  the  obstacle  which  made  his  restoration 
impossible.  In  the  patriotism,  the  too  often  unamiable  and 
unsocial  patriotism  of  our  forefathers,  lay  the  secret  at  once  of 
William's  weakness  and  of  his  strength.  They  w^ere  jealous 
of  his  love  for  Holland  :  but  they  cordially  sympathized  with 
his  hatred  of  Lewis.  To  their  strong  sentiment  of  nationality 
are  to  be  ascribed  almost  all  those  petty  annoyances  which 
made  the  throne  of  the  Deliverer,from  his  accession  to  his  death, 
so  uneasy  a  seat.  But  to  the  same  sentiment  it  is  to  be  ascribed 
that  his  throne,  constantly  menaced  and  frequently  shaken,  was 
never  subverted.    For,  much  as  his  people  detested  his  foreign 

♦  London  Gazette,  June  30,  1690  ;  Historical  and  Politi(:al  Mercury  for  July  169®. 
^  J^oHinf  ham  to  Williami  July  15,  169©, 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 


473 


favorites,  they  detested  his  foreign  adversaries  still  more.  The 
Dutch  were  Protestants ;  the  French  were  Papists.  The  Dutch 
were  regarded  as  self-seeking,  grasping,  overreaching  allies. 
The  French  were  mortal  enemies.  The  worst  that  could  be 
apprehended  from  the  Dutch  was  that  they  might  obtain  too 
large  a  share  of  the  patronage  of  the  crown,  that  they  might 
throw  on  us  too  large  a  part  of  the  burdens  of  the  war,  that 
they  might  obtain  commercial  advantages  at  our  expense.  But 
the  French  would  conquer  us ;  the  French  would  enslave  us  , 
the  French  would  inflict  on  us  calamities  such  as  those  which 
had  turned  the  fair  fields  and  cities  of  the  Palatinate  into  a 
desert,  ''The  hop-grounds  of  Kent  would  be  as  the  vineyards 
of  the  Neckar.  The  High  Street  of  Oxford  and  the  close  of 
Salisbury  would  be  piled  with  ruins  such  as  those  which  cov- 
ered the  spots  were  the  palaces  and  churches  of  Heidelberg 
and  Manheim  had  once  stood.  The  parsonage  overshadowed 
6y  the  old  steeple,  the  farm-house  peeping  from  among  bee- 
fiives  and  apple-blossoms,  the  manorial  hall  embosomed  in 
elms,  would  be  given  up  to  a  soldiery  which  knew  not  what  it 
was  to  pity  old  men,  or  delicate  women,  or  sucking  children. 
*fhe  words,  "  the  French  are  coming,"  like  a  spell,  quelled  at 
once  all  murmurs  about  taxes  and  abuses,  about  William's  un- 
gracious manners  and  Portland's  lucrative  places,  and  raised  a 
spirit  as  high  and  unconquerable  as  had  pervaded,  a  hundred 
years  before,  the  ranks  which  Elizabeth  reviewed  at  Tilbury. 
Had  the  army  of  Humieres  landed,  it  would  assuredly  have 
been  withstood  by  almost  every  male  capable  of  bearing  arms. 
Not  only  the  muskets  and  pikes,  but  the  scythes  and  pitch- 
forks, would  have  been  too  few  for  the  hundreds  of  thousands 
who,  forgetting  all  distinction  of  sect  or  faction,  would  Jiave 
risen  up  like  one  man  to  defend  the  English  soil.  .  ^  * 
The  immediate  effect,  therefore,  of  the  disasters  in  the' 
Channel  and  in  Flanders  was  to  unite  for  a  moment  the  great 
body  of  the  people.  The  national  antipathy  to  the  Dutch 
seemed  to  be  suspended.  Th^ir  gallant  conduct  in  the  fight 
Beachy  Head  was  loudly  applauded.  The  inaction  of  Toning- 
ton  was  loudly  condemned.  London  set  the  example  of  concert 
and  of  exertion.  -^The  irritation  produced  by  the  late  election 
at  once  subsided.-  '  All  distinctions  of  party  disappeared.  The 
lord-mayor  was  summoned  to  attend  the  queen.  She  requested 
him  to  ascertain  as  soon  as  possible  what  the  capital  would 
undertake  to  do  if  the  enemy  should  venture  to  make  a  de- 
•cent.  He  called  together  the  representatives  of  the  wards, 
conferred  with  them,  and  returned  to  Whitehall  to  report  that 
.¥©u  ILL— i6.^ 


474 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAm 


they  had  unanimously  bound  themselves  to  stand  by  the  go\r« 

ernment  with  life  and  fortune  ;  that  a  hundred  thousand  pounds 
were  ready  to  be  paid  into  the  Exchequer ;  that  ten  thousand  Lon* 
doners,  well  armed  and  appointed,  were  prepared  to  march  at  an 
hour's  notice,  and  that  an  additional  force,  consisting  of  six  regi- 
ments of  foot,  a  strong  regiment  of  horse,  and  a  thousand  dra- 
goons, should  be  instantly  raised  without  costing  the  crown  a  far- 
thing. Of  her  majesty  the  city  had  nothing  to  ask  but  that  she 
wouid  be  pleased  to  set  over  these  troops  officers  in  whom  she 
could  confide.  The  same  spirit  was  shown  in  every  part  of  the 
country.  Though  in  the  southern  counties  the  harvest  was  at 
hand,  the  rustics  repaired  with  unusual  cheerfulness  to  the 
muster  of  the  militia.  The  Jacobite  country  gentlemen,  who 
had  during  several  months,  been  making  preparations  for  the  gen» 
eral  rising  which  was  to  take  place  as  soon  as  William  was  gone, 
and  as  help  arrived  from  France,  now  that  William  was  gone, 
now  that  a  Friench  invasion  was  hourly  expected,  burned 
their  commissions  signed  by  James,  and  hid  their  arms  behind 
wainscots  or  in  haystacks.  The  Jacobites  in  the  towns  were 
insulted  wherever  they  appeared,  and  were  forced  to  shut 
themselves  up  in  their  houses  from  the  exasperated  populace,* 
Nothing  is  more  interesting  to  those  who  love  to  study  the 
intricacies  of  the  human  heart  than  the  effect  which  the  public 
danger  produced  on  Shrewsbury.  For  a  moment  he  was  again 
the  Shrewsbury  of  1688.  His  nature,  lamentably  unstable, 
was  not  ignoble  ;  and  the  thought  that,  by  standing  foremost 
in  the  defence  of  his  country  at  so  perilous  a  crisis,  he  might 
repair  his  great  fault  and  regain  his  own  esteem,  gave  new  en- 
ergy to  his  body  and  his  mind.  He  had  retired  to  Epsom  in 
the  hope  that  quiet  and  pure  air  would  produce  a  salutary  effect 
on  his  shattered  frame  and  wounded  spirit.  But  a  few  hours 
after  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Beachy  Head  had  arrived,  he 
was  at  Whitehall,  and  had  offered  his  purse  and  sword  to  the 
queen.  It  had  been  in  contemplation  to  put  the  fleet  under 
the  command  of  some  great  nobleman,  with  two  experienced 
naval  officers  to  advise  him.  Shrewsbury  begged  that,  if  such 
an  arrangement  were  made,  he  might  be  appointed.  It  con- 
cerned, he  said,  the  interest  and  the  honor  of  every  man  in  the 
kingdom  not  to  let  the  enemy  ride  victorious  in  the  Channel, 
and  he  would  gladly  risk  his  life  to  retrieve  the  lost  fame  of 
the  English  flag.f 

*  Burnet,  ii.,  53,  54  ;  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary,  July  7th,  nth,  1690  ;  London  Gazette* 
July  14th,  1690. 

t  Mary  to  William,  July  3,  t«>  1690  ;  Shrewsbury  to  Caeraarthen,  July  1,5. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARV. 


475 


His  offer  was  not  accepted.  Indeed,  the  plan  of  dividing 
the  naval  command  between  a  man  of  quality  who  did  not 
know  the  points  of  the  compass,  and  two  weather-beaten  old 
seamen  who  had  risen  from  being  cabin-boys  to  be  admirals, 
was  very  wisely  laid  aside.  Active  exertions  were  made  to 
prepare  the  allied  squadrons  for  service.  Nothing  was  omitted 
which  could  assuage  the  natural  resentment  of  the  Dutch.  The 
queen  sent  a  privy  councillor  charged  with  a  special  mission  to 
the  States  General.  He  was  the  bearer  of  a  letter  to  them,  in 
which  she  extolled  the  valor  of  Evertsen's  gallant  squadron. 
She  assured  them  that  their  ships  should  be  repaired  in  the 
English  "dock-yards,  and  that  the  wounded  Dutchmen  should 
be  as  carefully  tended  as  wounded  Englishmen.  It  was  an- 
nounced that  a  strict  inquiry  would  be  instituted  into  the 
causes  of  the  late  disaster ;  and  Torrington,  who,  indeed,  could 
not  at  that  moment  have  appeared  in  public  without  risk  of 
being  torn  in  pieces,  was  sent  to  the  Tower.* 

During  the  three  days  which  followed  the  arrival  of  the  dis- 
astrous tidings  from  Beachy  Head,  the  aspect  of  London  was 
gloomy  and  agitated.  But  on  the  fourth  day  all  was  changed. 
Bells  were  pealing  ;  flags  were  flying  ;  candles  were  arranged 
in  the  windows  for  an  illumination  ;  men  were  eagerly  shakifig 
hands  with  each  other  in  the  streets.  A  courier  had  that  morn- 
ing arrived  at  Whitehall  with  great  news  from  Ireland. 

•  Mary  to  the  States  General,  July  12  ;  Burchett**  Memoirs  ;  An  important  Aeooml 
wmarkabla  Fattages  ao  Ihc  Life  ot  Arthur^  gari  ci  Tocriigtoo,  1691. 


